IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0    ^'-  I 


I.I 


us 

US 

u 


lll^ 
|l.25 


25 
^-  Ui    |||2.2 

1.8 


140 


U    ill  1.6 


>:^^ 

%^%^ 


%> 

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1 


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Photograpliic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


«- 


33  WIST  tAAM  STtMT 

V^n^Ti^t.N.Y    14510 

(71*)  •73-4S03 


CIKM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductiona  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproduLtions  historiquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Nc  tes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exAmplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mdthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu^s  ci-dessous. 


D 
D 
□ 

n 

D 
D 

□ 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagde 

Covers  restored  and/or  larvtinated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pellicul^e 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
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Bound  with  oiher  material/ 
Reli^  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  r'uring  restoration  may 
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II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajouties 
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mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  film^es. 


r~~|    Coloured  pages/ 


Pages  de  couleur 


\Zfl 


Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag'&es 


D 


0l 


Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pellicul^es 


Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dicolordes,  tachetdes  ou  piqu^es 


D 


Pages  detached/ 
Page;i  ditach^es 


FTT^howthrough/ 
I— J    Transparence 


D 
D 

n 


Quality  of  prnt  varies/ 
Quality  indgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppl^mentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seulf/  Edition  disponible 

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ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  AtA  filmies  A  nouveau  de  fapon  A 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


D 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentairas  suppl^mentaires: 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filmA  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  mx  22X 


y 


28X 


30X 


12X 


1«X 


aox 


a4x 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

D.  B.  Weldon  Library 
University  of  Western  Ontario 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  filmi  f ut  reproduit  grfice  A  la 
g6n6rosit6  de: 

D.  B.  WeMon  Library 
University  of  Western  Ontark> 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6x6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin.  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  l'exemplaire  filmd,  et  en 
conformitd  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  iJlustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  ^^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED "),  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  doni  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  film6s  en  commen^ant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  pjr  la 
dernidre  page  qui  ccmporte  une  empreinte 
dimpression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  fiimds  en  commengant  par  la 
premidre  pag^  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  solvents  apparattra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  chaque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  -^»>  signifie  "A  SUIVRF",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  ir'^luded  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
begirning  m  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Stre 
fllm^s  6  des  taux  de  r6duction  diffdrents. 
Lcr;?qu6  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproouit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  film6  6  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  6  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nambre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

-W^ibpS'ljft- 


4 


tamaa 


LITTLE  HODGE 


BY  THE 


AUTHOR  OF  '*GINX'S  BABY" 


■■'  4 


•  m* 


NEW  YORK 

DODD    &    MEAD,    No.    762    BROADWAY 

1873 


AUTHOR'S   EDITION, 


N** 


!^^> 


Stereotyped  at  the 
WOMEN'S    PRINTING    HOUSE 
No.  .  Misdon  P,«e.  bet.  Park  and  Worth  St,.,  one  blodc  ^  of  Cent,,. 
I   \  '• '  Nhw   York. 


m\ 


PREFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


In  the  English  edition  of  this  story,  the  conversations  of 
the  country-people  are  written  and  spelt  in  the  Dorsetshire 
dialect,  i  have  thought  that,  in  preparing  it  for  American 
readers,  it  would  be  better,  while  retaining  the  idiom,  to 
correct  the  orthography  of  the  dialect,  and  this  is  the  only 
difference  in  the  editions  published  simultaneously  in  both 
countries.  •  .        ^    ; 

The  subject  of  this  story  is  one  that  may  be  remote  from 
the  knowledge  or  the  sympathies  of  American  readers,  yet 
it  will,  I  hope,  be  found  that  its  relations  and  lessons  are 
wider  than  the  subject,  and  that  it  possesses  a  general 
human  interest.  The  problems  of  Labor  and  Capital  are 
not  local ;  their  conditions  are  much  the  same  everywhere  ; 
and  the  spirit  of  the  solution  herein  glanced  at  will  be 
equally  at  home  in  Pennsylvania,  New  Jersey,  Ottawa, 
Somerset,  and  Dorset.  Moreover,  I  have  taken  the  liberty 
of  bringing  Brother  Jonathan  on  the  scene,  to  aid,  with  his 
younger  and  sharper  wit,  the  bucolic  and  fuddled  intellect 
of  old  John  Bull. 

^■---■-  '^-/    '      /*   ,      E.  J. 

Catbrham,  Surrey,  December  7,  187a.         .      ,  *» 


CONTENTS. 


-:o:- 


PART  I. 

INTO  AND  OUT  OF  THE  UNION. 

CHAPTER     it  'AC* 

I,— A  Matter  of  Life  and  Death    .         .        .        •        .  I 

II.— Wasted  Grief 4 

III. — A  Competency         .        > 7 

IV.— The  Mockery  of  Hope  .  *        .        .        .        .        .  II 

V. — Parochus  in  Council         | 13 

VI. — Focal  Government 17 

VII. — Local  versus  Focal 23 


PART  IL 

OUT  OF  ONE  UNION  INTO  ANOTHER. 

I. — The  Rigor  of  the  Impossible 30 

II. — Notice  before  Action 3* 

IIL— The  Church  and  Social  Science         •        .        •        •  39 

IV The  Last  Resort •  4^ 

V. — Sammy  Stedman 54 

VL— A  Curious  Bethel 7' 


VI 


CONTENTS 


PART   III. 


UNION  AND  rUSUNION. 


CHAPTER 


I.— The  Tournament  of  Capital  and  Labor 

II. — An  Inarguable  Case 
III.— The  Mushroom  Hat  on  its  Defence  . 
IV.— A  Noah's  Dove        .        .        . 

v.— A  Ukase  on  British  Soil  . 
VI.--Justices»  Justice  and  Statutes  at  Large 


FAGB 

79 

84 
88 
92 
96 
98 


r 


PART  IV. 


I  ! 


THE  CLIMAX  OF  DISUNION. 


li 


!• — A  Welcome  Home  . 

II.— The  Agonies  of  Solution 
III.— An  Antidote  to  Proselytism 
IV. — Argumentum  ad  Hominem 

v.— The  Scales  of  Justice 

VI.— Alarums.— Excursions     . 
VIL— A  Visitor         .        . 

VIIL— A  Dark  December   . 
IX. — The  End  crowns  the  Work 


-    •    •    • 


•    •    •    • 

•  «    . 

•  f    •    • 


107 
110 
118 
121 
199 
ia6 
129 

139 
141 


,     CONTENTS. 


VU 


PART    V. 


UNIONS  AND   COMMUNIONS, 
CHAPTER 

I. — ^Yankee  Intervention 


II.— A  Veiy  Dry  Chapter 
III.— Little  Pilgrims 
IV. — A  Merry  Christmas 


PAGB 

162 
165 
i63 


ITTLE    HODGE. 


PART  I. 


INTO  AND   OUT  OF  THE  UNION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   MATTER  OF   LIFE   AND  DEATH. 

"Three  pounds  five  ounces  and  a  half,"  said  the  Union 
cook,  ringing  down  the  half-ounce  on  the  balance  to  equalize 
the  scales. 

In  the  tin  scale  on  the  other  side  lay  on  a  white  clof  the 
minutest  piece  of  living  humanity  that  perhaps  ever  came 
into  the  world. 

"Well!"  said  the  doctor,  "it's  the  smallest  child  I  ever 
knew  born  alive.  It's  hardly  worth  the  trouble  the  poor 
woman  has  had  with  it." 

"  Hum  ! "  said  Mr.  Mee,  the  Master  of  the  Union ; 
"  these  people  thinks  nothin'  of  the  trouble  and  exp  ^nse 
they  are  to  the  Parish  when  they  breeds.  It's  a  curis  law 
that  provides  for  keepin'  sich  chits  as  that  alive  now,  ain't 
it?" 

"  Poor  little  creetur ! "  said  the  nurse,  taking  up  the  morsel 


) 


■•■'■fW!SS>3;:)FV . 


L  ITTI.  K      nODGE. 


of  humanity  from  its  uncomfortable  position  in  the  v/oric- 
house  scales,  which  had  been  brought  up  from  the  kitchen 
expressly  to  test  its  specific  gravity.  "It  ain't  got  enough 
body  to  keep  the  life  in  it,  I'm  afeard.  Its  lungs  can't  be 
larger  than  straars,  can  they,  doctor  ?  " 

"  This  child,"  replied  that  official,  not  noticing  the  defect 
in  Mrs.  Gussett's  comparative  anatomy,  and  pointing  to  the 
wee  red  carcass,  which  the  nurse  was  proceeding  to  envelop 
in  some  clothes  enormously  too  big  for  it ;  "  this  child  is 
strumous.  Moreover,  it  already  exhibits  a  tendency  to  hy- 
drocephalus. Its  head  is  as  large  and  weighs  nearly  as 
much  as  the  rest  of  its  body.  I  never  saw  a  human  form 
alive  with  such  legs  and  arms  — lliey  are  scarcely  fit  for  a 
good  sized  cockchafer.  In  Sparta,  now,  they  >vould  have 
drowned  tlii).  little  animal  immediately;  or  amorg  some 
Indian  tribes  of  North  America,  Mrs.  Gussett,  it  would  have 
been  your  duty,  when  you  saw  so  conspicuous  a  fliilurc  of 
nature,  to  place  your  finger  and  thumb  tightly  on  its  wind- 
pipe, and  save  the  tribe  any  further  anxiety  in  regard  to  it." 

A  groan  from  (ho  bed  here  interrupted  the  conversation — 
a  bed  in  the  lying-in  ward  of  the  Coddleton  Union,  in  Rus- 
setshire,  where  this  conversation  had  taken  place.  The 
woman  from  whom  the  groan  proceeded  was  Mrs.  Hodge, 
wife  of  John  Hodge,  of  Hankcrlcy,  in  the  limits  of  the  Union 
— a  woman  who  had  come  here  for  the  eighth  and  last  time 
to  be  delivered  of  a  child  at  the  cost  of  the  Parish,  and  had 
just  produced  to  the  world  the  unprecedented  and  abortive 
curiosity  which  had  been  the  subject  of  scientific  remark.  1 
say  there  was  a  groan  from  the  bed  at  the  close  of  the 


A     MATTER      O  T      F,  I  !•  K      AND      D  HAT  11. 


.9 


doctor's  liisforic  and  social  reminiscences,  and  Mrs.  Giissctt, 
saying,  "Ah,  poor  creetiir!  I'm  afeard  she  ain't  worth  much, 
doctor,"  approached  the  bed. 

As  she  drew  near  with  the  little  morsel  in  her  hand — it  is 
impossible  to  speak  of  so  tir.y  a  parcel  as  occupying  her 
arms — and  leaning  kindly  over  the  woman  asked  her  if  there 
was  anything  she  wanted,  the  latter  with  sudden  energy 
snatched  the  small  bundle  from  the  nurse's  grasp,  and  draw- 
ing it  to  her  bosom  with  all  her  remaining  strength,  burst 
Tito  a  passion  of  tears.  Talk  of  drowning  and  choking  it? 
The  flood  rolled  down  fro.n  her  white,  thin  cheeks — oh  so 
pale  and  so  poverty-stricken  ! — baptising  the  little  youngling, 
and  adding  to  the  bubbling  springs  of  its  tirst  sorrows  rivers 
from  the  deep  exhaustless  ocean  of  a  mother's  love.  Only 
a  minute  or  so  it  lasted,  in  which  the  puzzled  nurse  tried  to 
cheer  her  and  get  the  child  away.  Closer  and  closer  she 
drew  it,  until  all  at  once  the  tears  ceased,  the  heaving 
breath  stayed,  the  arms  loosened  their  convulsive  hold. 
The  Union  had  done  all  it  could  for  Mrs.  Hodge  living — it 
now  only  remained  to  it  to  bury  what  was  left  of  her. 

At  an  exclamation  of  the  nurse  the  doctor  had  come  for- 
ward and  taken  the  dead  hand  in  his  own,  to  drop  it  again 
immediately.      ,         >i  : 

"  I  expected  this,"  said  he,  coolly.  "  The  woman  had 
scarcely  a  drop  of  blood  in  her.  iler  circulation  was  a 
mere  dribble.  Carrots  and  turnips  and  cabbages,  Mr.  Mce, 
I  expect  every  day  of  her  li<e  ;  hardly  ever  a  Ltt  of  nourish- 
ing diet.     I  wonder  these  peo^Je  have  any  children  at  all." 

"  Yet  they  do,"  said  Mr.  Mce,  "  and  they  come  here  to 


\r 


LITTLE     HODGE 


have  'em.  We're  most  unfortinit  in  this  Union.  The  child 
will  have  to  be  brought  up  by  hand,  and  the  father's  sure  to 
come  upon  us  for  it." 

"  The  mother  then  never  could  have  reared  it,'*  said  Mrs. 
Gussett,  as  holding  the  child  in  one  hand  she  drew  the  cov- 
ering off  the  bosom  of  the  dead  woman  with  the  other,  show- 
ing the  pale,  skinny  breast,  shrunken  and  depressed  with  the 
want  and  care,  the  famine  and  pain,  of  five-and-thirty  years. 
"  S'^e'd  never  had  anythin'  for  it  anyways.  It's  as  well  she's 
gone,  poor  thing  !  "  And  the  woman,  with  a  touch  of  rever- 
ence, covered  up  the  shrunken  body,  and  turned  away  with 
the  child  from  the  coffin  of  its  hopes. 

"  I'll  just  book  the  case,"  said  the  doctor,  making  a  mem- 
orandun?.  "  No  inquest  will  be  necessary,  Mr.  Mee.  *  In- 
anition after  child-birth.'  You  had  better  try  the  little  thing, 
Mrs.  Gussett,  with  that  young  girl  who  came  in  yesterday 
from  the  Hall.     She's  healthy  enough.     Good-evening." 


CHAPTER    II. 


-^\(^ 


WASTED  GRIEF. 

The  next  morning  John  Hodge,  having,  with  the  assistance 
oi  his  eldest  girl  aged  thirteen,  dressed  his  children,  and 
concocted  a  queer  mess,  whereof  bread,  cabbage,  and  an 
inch  of  bacon,  with  a  great  quantity  of  water,  were  the  con- 
stituents, called  at  the  Union  to  inquire  how  it  fared  with 
his  wife.    "^"^'^'^  "~"'  --— -^.  _ 

The  porter  at  the  door  looked  at  him  not  imkindly,  know- 


WASTED     GRIEF 


:e 


ing  that  the  shell  for  his  wife's  body  had  only  preceded  him 
upstairs  a  few  minutes. 

"  There's  bad  news  for  you,  John,"  said  he.  "  You  may 
go  into  the  Master's  room.     He's  there,  I  IVleeve." 

"  Ah  !  she've  a  had  the  baby  then  ?  " 

The  other  nodded. 

"  Born  dead,  I  s'pose  ?  "  continued  John,  the  reality  not 
occurring  to  him  as  possible.  *'  Ah  !  well,  they're  hard  to 
bring  up  these  times.  She'd  had  a  goodish  deal  o'  trubble 
an'  hard  work,  poor  creetur  !  But  she  will  take  on  so  about 
it,  I  know."  ,: 

"  Hem  !  said  the  porter.  "  The  baby's  all  right  so  far 
as  I  hear,  John,  though  they  do  say  it's  the  littlest  ever  was 
born." 

"  The  baby's  all  right  an'  bad  news  for  I  ?  "  said  John,  his 
mind  slowly  harking  back  to  the  man's  first  words,  his  eye- 
brows rising  in  pain,  and  his  whole  face  transformed  as  with 
a  sudden  revelation  of  the  truth.  '*  Is  anything  the  matter 
with  Mary  then  ?  " 

The  porter  nodded  again. 

"  Oh  !  she'll  get  over  he,"  said  John,  confidently,  compress- 
ing his  lips,  as  was  his  wont,  to  show  decision.  "  She's  a  ben 
very  ill  afore,  but  she  alius  cum  round,  she  did.  She's 
stronger  nor  she  looks,  is  Mary." 

**  She'll  never  come  round  agaiii;  Johr,"  said  the  other, 
softly  but  firmly. 

"  What  I "  said  John,  the  drops  instantly  spouting  from  his 
shower.     "Ee  doi 


eyes 


perfect 


say  my  Mary 


■a—apaai 


I,  ITTLE     HODGE. 


Tummas?  Eedon't  mean/Z/d!/,  Tummas  !  My  Mary  dead? 
Dead,  Tummas?     Ee  don't  say  so,  do  ee  ?  " 

The  man  was  bereft.  His  most  expensive  luxury  was 
gone.  The  base  accomplice  who  had  conspired  with  him 
against  all  social  law  and  well-being  to  produce  eleven  other 
expensive  sorrows,  was  taken  away.  The  partner  of  a  hard 
purgatorial  life  had  left  him  alone  with  the  brood  of  their 
joint  stupidity  and  criminal  recklessness.  The  mouth  that 
swallowed  up  a  part  of  his  petty  earnings — though  God  Om- 
niscient knows 'twas  ever  the  least  and  worst  remnant  of  all ! 
— was  now  closed  and  would  no  more  exact  its  toll  from  his 
scanty  life-gage.  Yet  there  was  this  miserable  man  career- 
ing round  the  hall  of  Coddleton  Union  in  a  state  of  incoher- 
ent grief  because  "  Mary  was  dead  !  "  . 

When  John  Hodge  had  wept  awhile  over  the  appropriate 
shell  that  contained  the  poor  remains  of  his  dead  wife,  he 
was  conducted  to  a  room  where  his  tiny  offspring  was  taking 
in  life  from  a  girl  who  had  "  met  with  a  misfortune  "  at  the 
Squire's.  His  exclamation,  when  wiping  away  from  his  red 
eyes  the  film  of  grief  he  caught  sight  of  the  diminutive  creat- 
ure, resembled  that  of  its  late  nurse.  ' 

"La  bless  me,  baint  he  a  little  un  1  Why,  he  ain't  big 
enough  to  live,  be  he  ?  " 

The  grotesquerie  of  the  thing  for  a  while  stayed  the  cur- 
rent of  Hodge's  sorrow.  He  was  the  father  of  the  smallest 
child  in  the  world. 

V 


^i^OSlW 


.J^M'i 


A     COMPETENCY. 


CHAPTER  III. 


A  COMPETENCY. 


Little  Hodge  remained  a  week  in  charge  of  the  unlucky 
damsel  from  the  Hall.  He  was  of  a  size  to  want  but  little, 
and  seemed  by  nature  quiet  enough.  The  cries  of  such  a 
one  could  not  at  all  events  reach  very  far.  Had  the  Public 
and  the  Parish  been  content  to  leave  him  where  Providence 
seemed  to  have  placed  him,  the  beau-ideal  of  conservative 
policy  would  have  been  attained,  and  he  might  have  devel- 
oped into  an  under-sized  but  ordinary  man,  with  a  history 
unworthy  of  note.  But  the  Press  got  hold  of  him.  When 
the  Press  gets  hold  of  a  child  or  a  man,  quietness  for  that 
cliild  or  that  man  is  imperilled  forever.  Who  then  can  say 
whether  that  child  or  that  man  shall  ever  repose  again  in  the 
bosom  of  the  unforgotten  and  unknown  ?  A  paragraph  ap- 
peared in  the  weekly  sheet  issued  at  the  county  town,  an- 
nouncing that  the  smallest  child  in  the  world  had  been  born* 
in  Coddleton  Union.  This  paragraph  naturally  slipped  into 
sly  corners  in  the  provincial  and  metropolitan  newspapers. 
Along  with  the  advertisements  of  Hollowa/s  pills  it  reached 
America,  Australia,  and  the  Sandwich  Islands.  Here  was 
fame  achieved  without  any  effort  on  the  part  of  its  object. 
Many  visitors  came  to  the  workhouse — physicians,  surgeons, 
comparative  anatomists,  and  one  or  two  social  science  phi- 
losophers. They  all  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  he  was 
very  small,  and  were  agreed  in  the  conviction  that  he  could 
not  live.     A  gentleman  notoriously  connected  with  national 


i 


^^^^M 


8 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


I 


lii 


shows  determined,  on  this  contingency,  to  utilize  him  for  the 
public  benefit.  He  made  advances  to  the  Master  of  the 
House  for  the  transmission  of  the  anticipated  remains,  care- 
fully corked  in  a  bottle  of  spirits,  to  the  West  Parkton  Mu- 
seum. Happy  had  been  the  fate  of  our  Little  Hodge  had 
he  been  thus  preserved  and  labelled  for  the  instruction  of  the 
masses  !  Whether  he  would  have  done  as  much  good  as  his 
life  gave  rise  to,  is  a  question  yet  to  be  settled.  Meantime 
his  local  popularity  was  amazing.  The  Squire  and  his  lady 
and  their  children,  and  others  of  the  neighboring  aristocracy, 
went  to  see  him,  and  predicted  for  him  a  career  as  success- 
ful as  that  of  Tom  Thumb. 

Is  it  not  curious  what  interest  may  be  aroused  by  a  physi- 
cal deformity,  compared  with  the  anxiety  created  by  the 
most  hideous  moral  or  social  monstrosities?  Neither  scien- 
tific man,  nor  county  squire,  nor  parson,  nor  magistrate, 
recognized  in  this  child  the  presentment  of  the  deterioration 
of  a  class  which  lent  no  small  share  to  the  production  of  the 
necessaries  of  life.  How  often  we  prefer  looking  at  the 
glass  instead  of  through  it,  examining  curiously  the  concrete 
fact  and  disregarding  the  abstract  principles  that  lie  behind 
itl  As  to  these  things  a  dead  truth  for  us  is  the  poet's 
apothegm — 

"  We  look  before  and  after, 
Aud  pine  for  what  Is  not," 

for  we  regard  not  relations  and  strain  too  little  after  the 
better  and  more  perfect.  Were  we  to  use  our  microscopes 
to  look  at  many  facts  which  our  eyes  glance  over  to  pass 
away,  ignorant  of  their  before  and  after  relations,  of  their 


( II 


A    COMPETENCY. 


real  substance,  how  could  we  in  con«^cience  permit  those 
facts  to  lie  as  disregarded  as  we  do  ? 

But  another,  to  Little  Hodge,  more  immediately  impor- 
tant power  whose  attention  was  given  to  him,  was  the  Parish, 
and  in  its  hands  his  fate  by  the  law  of  England  and  the  will 
of  Providence  hung  poised.  John  Hodge,  his  father,  was  a 
laborer  employed  by  a  neighboring  land-tenant,  who  to  give 
respectability  to  his  rough  tweed  clothes  and  rougher  man- 
ners was  called  a  gentleman-farmer,  at  the  current  wages  in 
that  neighborhood  of  nine  shillings  a  week.  He  had  a  cot- 
tagt;  rent-free — a  tenement  I  may  hereafter  describe.  In 
front  of  the  cottage  was  a  strip  of  soil  thirty  feet  long  by 
sixteen  broad,  where,  under  the  late  Mrs.  Hodge's  manage- 
ment, rows  of  green  peas  and  scarlet-runners  were  wont  of 
an  early  spring  to  flaunt  their  gay  flowers,  while  towards 
autumn  the  browning  leaves  and  haulms  of  potatoes  or  the 
martialled  cabbages  gave  token  of  a  thrifty  outlook  to  the 
hungry  winter.  You  may  ascertain  how  much  this  estate 
with  assiduous  care  and  scientific  culture  would  add  to  a 
family's  resources,  by  an  experiment  in  the  background  of 
your  dwelling  in  Brompton  or  Camden  Town. 

This  however  does  not  sum  up  all  Hodge's  benefits. 
For  the  harveiit  weeks  Mr.  Jolly,  the  gentleman  farmer 
aforesaid,  gave  each  of  his  men  a  bonus  of  thirty  shillings, 
thus  increasing  their  annual  stipend  in  cash  to  the  sum  of 
;^24  1 8s.  Through  the  same  period  and  in  thrashing-time 
they  were  su[)plied  with  a  quart  a  day  of  mild  ale,  home- 
brewed, which  the  honest  farmer,  to  prove  how  good  it  was, 
would  himself  take  a  pull  at  in  the  field ;  a  test  he  could 


lO 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


Stand,  though  to  the  ill-fed  stomachs  of  the  men  it  did  not 
always  prove  a  sedative.  The  Plodge  family  also  took  their 
share  in  the  annual  gleanings,  which  added  something  to 
their  stock  of  food.  At  Christmas  each  family  on  the 
estate  received  a  piece  of  beef,  a  sack  of  potatoes,  and  half 
a  ton  of  coal  from  the  Hall,  and  a  pair  of  blankets  from  a 
parish  charity.  The  second  boy  of  the  family  earned  two 
shillings  a  week  for  seven  or  eight  weeks  in  the  year,  in  the 
corn-fields  or  elsewhere. 

We  may  therefore  sum  up  Hodge's  total  receipts  and  re- 
sources for  the  food,  clothing,  and  hou3ing  of  his  family, 
consisting  of  two  adults  and  ten  children.  Little  Hodge,  for 
the  time,  being  out  of  the  question,  as  follows  : 


In  Money. 


His  Wages — 52  weeks  at  9s.  a  week 
Harvest  Money  extra      .         .         ; 
Jack  Hodge — 8  weeks  at  2s.  a  week 

■".».-^     I 
•.       0 

s. 
8 

10 

16 

d. 
0 

0 

0 

Cash  receipts  per  annum 

•  ^^S 

14 

0 

In  Kind. 
Gleanings 

60  Quarts  of  Mild  Ale  at  3d.  (?)     . 

10  lbs.  of  Beef  at  iid.    . 

I  Sack  of  Potatoes. 

Half-ton  of  Coals  at  21s. 

I  Pair  of  Blankets 

.     ^3 
0 

0 

0 

0 

.         0 

0 

9 
6 

10 

12 

0 
0 
2 
0 
6 
0 

Total  value  in  kind.        , 

.       ;^S 

12 

8 

sa^f" 


THE     MOCKERY    OF     HOPE. 


II 


If  \vc  place  upon  the  house  and  its  small  allotment  the 
extravagant  rent  of  eighty  shillings,  it  appears  that  at  the 
highest  estimate  Hodge's  whole  receipts  reached  thirty-five 
pounds  a  year ;  out  of  which  he  had  to  keep  himself  in 
working  condition,  to  clothe,  feed,  educate  if  might  be,  a 
family.  Both  he  and  his  wife  had  always  abhorred  the 
workhouse,  but  it  will  scarcely  be  held  to  their  discredit 
that  they  had  la  erly  found  it  necessary,  on  such  critical 
emergencies  as  the  one  with  which  our  story  opens,  to  apply 
to  the  Parish  for  its  aid.  Every  ratepayer  in  the  place  was 
thus  practically  obliged  to  contribute  something  toward 
Hodge's  wages,  and  a  great  deal  more  toward  the  wages  of 
many  of  Hodge's  mates,  whose  sensibilities  were  not  so 
keen  or  their  thrift  so  notable  as  those  of  Hodge  and  his 
wife.  No  one  will  have  any  difficulty  in  understanding  why 
Mr.  Jolly  was  an  ardent  opponent  of  a  rise  of  wages,  and 
was  wont  in  argument  to  point  significantly  to  the  full 
Union.  Was  it  not  cheaper  to  pay  rates  assisted  by  the 
Parish,  than  to  pay  a  rate  of  wages  to  keep  his  laborers  oflf 
the  Parish? 

*    IK 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE   MOCKERY   OF  HOPE. 


I  SAID  the  Parish  had  now  got  hold  of  the  little  problem, 
Little  Hodge.  "  What  will  he  do  with  it  ?  "  was  a  question 
it  might  have  puzzled  any  Tory  novelist  to  answer,  and  may 
puzzle  matiy  such  novelists  for  many  a  year  to   come. 


12 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


When  John  Hodge  with  a  common,  dingy  bit  of  crape 
around  his  hat,  a  child  in  either  hand — the  eldest  two  who 
were  best  able  to  appreciate  the  solemnity  of  the  time — 
turned  away  from  the  brown  mound  of  fresh  earth,  which  he 
had  to  the  last  moment  watched  the  sexton  trimming  and 
moulding  with  his  spade  into  some  smoothness  of  outline, 
his  first  thought  was —  v 

"What's  to  be  done  with  the  little  un?" 

The  mother  he  had  heard  the  curate  consign  to  earth, 
in  "  sure  and  certain  hope  "  of  a  joyful  resurrection.  What 
hope  was  there  for  the  living  she  had  left  behind  her? 
Hodge's  heart  sank  within  him  when  he  faced  that  question 
in  his  slow,  congealed  mind.  God,  and  the  Parson,  and  the 
Parish,  and  the  Master  of  the  Union,  and  Mr.  Jolly,  and 
his  own  position,. all  seemed  to  mock  him  solemnly  with  the 
antithesis  to  professed  hope  of  express  facts.  Hodge  h:\d  a 
grim  forecast  that  he  would  be  made  legally  responsible  for 
the  bringing  up  of  the  "  little  un,"  and  that  he  dared  not  rely 
on  the  Parish  to  keep  it  a  day  longer  than  it  could  help.  ' 
He  never  entertained  a  suspicion  that  he  had  been  unduly 
burdening  himself  with  a  progeny.  He  regarded  children 
as  an  institution  of  Nature  or  Providence,  and  as  much  a 
matter  of  course  or  no  course  as  a  fall  of  rain  or  a  crop  of 
wheat.  No  law  to  abstain  from  procreation  being  written 
on  his  heart  any  more  than  it  is  on  the  instinct  of  any  other 
animal,  one  cannot  bring  him  within  the  circle  of  St.  Paul's 
responsibles — "their  conscience  being  witness  and  their 
thoughts  the  meanwhile  accusing  or  else  excusing  one  an- 
other."    On  that  point  how  could  he  have   any  doubts  ? 


m 


M 


PAROCHUS     IN    COUNCIL. 


13 


We  cannot  wonder  that  he  should  deem  Providence  or  the 
Parish  or  his  master  or  somebody  bound  to  enable  him  to 
supj)ort  his  family.  At  this  particular  moment,  when  the 
mainstay  of  the  family  was  gone,  this  postulate  occurred  to 
him  with  peculiar  force.  We  shall  hereafter  trace  the  re- 
sults of  his  cogitations ;  meanwhile  let  us  f jllow  the  action 
of  the  Parish  with  regard  to  his  youngest  child. 


* 


CHAPTER  V. 


PAROCHUS   IN   COUNCIL. 

Mr.  Bond,  the  Clerk  of  the  Union,  Mr.  Mee,  the  Master, 
and  Mr.  Coleman,  the  relieving  officer,  were  preparing  for 
the  Board  meeting.  There  was  the  question  of  the  meat 
contract ;  there  was  the  question  of  coals  ;  there  ,vas  the 
question  of  Anna  Maria  Simmons,  agjd  eighteen,  late  ser- 
vant at  the  Hall,  ejected  with  disgrace,  upon  a  certain  dis- 
covery, like  a  kittening  cat,  and  forced  to  run  for  refuge  to 
the  Union,  while  the  cause  of  her  disaster  remained  for  the 
present  an  unblemished  groom,  to  ride  about  with  the 
Squire's  daughters;  and  lastly  there  was  the  question  of 
Little  Hodge.  On  all  the  other  matters  the  Master  had 
formed  and  formulated  an  opinion,  but  Mr.  Mee  admitted 
to  himself  that  on  this  one  he  was  in  doubt.  He  knew 
Hodge's  position  perfectly  well.  A  man  with  ten  children 
at  home,  the  eldest  only  thirteen,  his  wife  dead,  the  absolute 
claims  of  life  peremptorily  demanding  that  he  should  spend 
ten  or  eleven  hours  a  day  out  of  his  house,  it  was  clear 


Illitl 


t  Ml 

inl 

iilli 
. »  ill 
I  if  I 


M 


MTTI-K     IIODGR. 


enough  tliat  to  send  liini  home  the  new-born  babe  to  look 
after,  was  to  raise  a  problem  for  Ilodge  doiiblfully  soluble. 
On  ihe  other  hand,  Mr.  Mee  was  eciually  clear  that  the 
law,  by  which  he  was  regulated,  threw  upon  Ilodge  and  not 
upon  the  Parish  the  resjwnsibility  of  solving  that  problem. 
Yet  in  the  hope  that  something  would  occur  to  himself  or 
to  the  guardians  which  might  justify  the  retention  of  the 
little  curiosity  in  the  workhouse,  Mr.  Mce  had  not  dis- 
charged his  duty,  and  returned  the  child  to  the  father  the 
day  after  Mrs.  Hodge  was  buried.  Mr.  Mce  was  an  official ; 
he  was  bound  to  look  at  every  question  from  an  official 
point  of  view,  he  was  of  necessity  precluded  from  involving 
natural  sympathies  with  official  duties ;  but  there  was  a 
seldom-reached  humanity  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  which 
Hodge's  long  anxious  face  and  Little  Hodge's  peeping  cries 
stirred  up  a  little.  He  ascertained  from  the  girl  that  the 
dwarfish  strangeling,  so  limited  were  his  requirements,  really 
made  no  difference  to  her  or  her  own  baby,  and  accordingly 
felt  justified  in  straining  a  point  to  keep  him  in  the  Union. 

The  composition  of  the  Board  of  Guardians  is  perhaps 
nothing  to  us  here.  It  has  to  do  with  those  picturesque, 
remote,  widely-scattered  country  interests  whereof  we  easily 
lose  sight  from  their  very  want  of  aggregation  and  obtrusive- 
ness.  Yet,  in  rural  districts,  great  is  the  power  of  this  body 
and  important  the  jurisdiction  it  administers  for  thousands 
upon  thousands  of  our  fellow-countrymen.  The  Coddleton 
Union  consisted  of  sixteen  parishes,  whereof  some  of  the 
incumbents,  being  Justices  of  the  Peace,  were  ex-ojficio 
members.     There  w^ere  also  county  squires  and  gentlemen 


PA  ROC  II  us     IN    COUNCIL. 


15 


and  a  fair  proportion  of  fanners,  wiio,  though  not  the  most 
regular  attendants,  could  always  be  whipped  up  to  any 
meeting  of  interest.  On  the  day  when  Master  Hodge': 
fate  was  to  be  decided,  the  Rev.  Winwood  Leicester,  M.A., 
Vicar  of  Hanke.ley ;  Captain  CoUingsby ;  Sydney  IJyrton, 
Esq.,  of  Byrton  Hall,  Chairman  j  Mr.  Caldwell,  a  solicitor  ; 
Mr.  Harris,  a  "merchant,"  and  several  others  were  present. 
The  meat  contract  was  considered,  and  a  trial  of  Au- 
stralian meat  ordered  in  the  old  women's  ward.  The  coal 
contract  was  given  out  to  a  nephew  of  Mr.  Harris.  Spite 
of  the  protest  of  the  Squire,  it  was  ordered  that  the  groom 
at  Byrton  Hall  should  be  summoned  to  contribute  to  the 
support  of  Anna  Maria's  child,  the  Squire  declaring  "  it  was 
more  her  fault  than  his."  Then  came  up  the  Hodge 
matter.  Mrs.  Hodge  had  been  buried ;  it  was  no  use  dis- 
puting that  item.  Mee  said  it  was  impossible  to  recover 
the  burial  expenses  from  John  Hodge,  and  after  some  de- 
mur the  impossibility  was  admitted. 


"  Did  the  child  die  too  ? "  said  Mr.  Leicester,  whose 
curate  had  buried  the  mother. 

**  No,  sir,"  replied  the  Master,  cautiously. 

"  What  has  he  done  with  it,  then  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  the  fact  is — hem — we  did  not  like  to  take  up- 
on us  in  the  circumstances  to  order  its  removal.  The 
young  woman,  Simmons,  is  feedin'  it,  and  she  says  it's  no 
trouble  to  her ;  and  as  it's  no  expense  to  the  Union,  I 
thought  I  had  better  keep  it  till  the  Board  decided  what  to 
do  with  it." 


i6 


LITTLE     11  O  D  G  E  . 


"  Quite  illegal,  Mr.  Mee,"  said  the  solicitor ;  "  totally 
contra  legeiny  '  :''':^\.:  ::*:-':-:'i-'''X'-^P-'--''"^^     <-/■ 

"  But  you  see,  Mr.  Caldwell,"  said  the  Vicar,  "  it  does 
not  cost  anything,  and  it  seems  reasonable  in  the  circum- 
stances. I  suppose  that  man  Hodge  has  no  one  at  home 
to  look  after  it  ? "  :      ' : ;  : 

"  Not  a  soul !  '*  replied  Mr.  Mee. 

"  No  mother-in-law  or  deceased  wife's  sister  ?  "  asked 
the  attprney. 

**  No,"  replied  the  Master  ;  "  no  relations  hereabouts.  I 
can't  think  how  the  law  would  ever  let  such  as  them  get  a 
settlement." 

"  Bad  management,  sir — bad  management.  Between  the 
new  poor  laws,  and  the  neglect  of  the  Guardians  and  over- 
acted philanthropy,  our  interests  have  been  shamefully 
neglected,  sir." 

"However,"  said  Mee,  gaining  ground,  "here  arc  the 
facts,  gentlemen.  Hodge  has  ten  children  at  home,  and  the 
oldest  is  thirteen.  His  wages  is  nine  shillings  a  week,  and 
he  must  work  six  days  a  week  to  earn  them.  Who's  to  look 
aiVer  this  baby  now  his  wife  is  dead  ?  " 

This  simple  statement  of  the  situation  seemed  to  startle 
the  Board  as  much  as  the  similar  oracular  but  matter-of- 
fact  utterances  of  a  noble  statesman  ecstasize  the  press  and 
the  public. 

"  Well,"  said  the  attorney,  "  we  have  nothing  to  do  with 
that      The  man  must  look  after  his  own  infant.    You  nic" 
depend  upon  it,  if  we  keep  the  child  here  we  shall  have  the 
Focal  Government  Board  down  upon  us  directly.     It  is  all 


FOCAL    government! 


17 


very  well  to  say  the  child  doesn't  cost  us  anything  because 
that  servant  of  yours  feeds  it.  Mr.  Chairman." 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  interrupted  that  gentleman,  haughtily, 
"  be  good  enough  to  confine  yourself  to  facts.  She  is  not 
my  servant,  sir  i  " 

"  Well,  she  was,"  said  the  other,  "  till  she  came  on  the 
parish.  I  did  not  in  the  least  intend  any  discourtesy,  sir. 
I  was  going  to  remark  that  no  doubt  Anna  Maria  What's- 
her-name  will  consume  more  beef-tea  and  beer  in  conse- 
quence of  this  extra  draught  upon  her — if  you  will  pardon 
the  double  entendre^  gentlemen — and  you  may  depend  upon 
it  this  will  not  escape  the  eye  of  Mr.  Mordant." 

Mr.  Mordant  was  the  President  of  the  Focal  Government 
Board.  The  Guardians  laughed  ai  the  idea  of  regarding 
Miss  Simmons  as  a  conduit-pipe  from  the  ratepayers  to  Little 
Hodge  of  an  appreciable  bounty,  and,  being  in  a  good 
humor,  resolved  that  tor  the  present  he  should  not  be  dis- 
turbed. Hodge's  mind  was  therefore  for  a  while  relieved 
Trom  the  pain  of  solving  an  impracticable  problem. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

FOCAL  GOVERNMENT  I 


To  almost  supreme  control  of  local  administrations  in 
England,  one  department  of  Government  has  by  a  series  of 
successful  stratagems  at  length  won  its  way.  In  not  very 
ancient  times  the  people  jealously  guarded  the  rights  of  self- 
administration.      Any  encroachment  by  the  central  power 


7 


i8 


LITTLE      IIODGE. 


would  have  been  resented,  and  was  resented  by  that  innu- 
merable, powerful  conclave  whom  I  may  combine  under  the 
name  of  Parochus.  Mighty,  too  mighty  in  those  days  was  the 
spirit  of  Parochus,  and  very  mean  withal,  sometimes  !  Ves- 
tries, guardians  of  the  poor,  commissioners  of  various  sorts, 
highway  boards,  and  the  county  magistrates,  "/e'-e  the  auto- 
crats  of  their  particular  districts  ;  and  an  inspecto''  to  inquire 
into  their  adn.inistra'.ion,  overhaul  their  books,  ask  impertinent 
questions,  and  report  upon  their  shortcomings,  would  have 
been  an  unendurable  phenomenon,  that  might  have  been 
sent  back  again  tc  the  Minister  who  sent  him  with  a  flea  in 
his  ear.  Parochus  was  confessedly  a  bad  administrator. 
He,  of  all  people  in  the  world,  could  with  best  propriety 
confess  in  the  parish  church  his  sins  done  and  duties  left  un- 
done. Too  frequently  was  he  slow,  blind,  careless,  corrupt, 
and  costly  in  his  ways  of  doing  and  undoing.  But  there 
was  a  paramount  good  in  him  which  no  free  people  could 
afford  to  overlook  or  safely  forego — he  developed  and 
maintained  local  action  and  local  independence.  When  he 
had  to  administer  monstrously  bad  laws  for  the  relief  of  the 
poor,  he  u'.ifortunately  was  too  human  not  to  take  advantage 
of  them  if  they  could  be  twisted  in  his  own  behoof,  or  he 
was  benevolent  and  reckless  with  funds  not  entirely  his  own. 
He  regarded  the  Poor-law  as  a  valuable  auxiliary  to  agricul- 
ture, and  so  administered  it.  What  little  he  had  to  do  in  a 
sanitary  way  he  did  badly,  being  on  the  average  as  ignorant 
of  the  natural  laws  of  Health  as  his  neighbors  and  most  of 
the  law-makers.  Now  the  remedy  devised  by  modeni 
legislators  for  these  defects  in  the   character  of  parochial 


FOCAL     government! 


19 


management  was  not  so  much  to  educate  Parochus  and  his 
constituency  and  make  them  capable  and  desirous  of  better 
things,  as  to  tie  Parochus  hand  and  foot  to  a  supreme  cen- 
tral power  which  should  force  him  to  do  its  behests.  This 
remedy  has  been  applied  and  is  being  applied  with  a  heroic 
decisiveness  that  bids  fair  to  leave  poor  Parochus  notliing 
but  a  puppet,  dancing  to  strings  pulled  by  a  minister  suffi- 
ciently histrionic  for  the  purpose,  who  is  ensconced  in  a 
dilapidated  old  tabernacle  of  Public  Charity  in  Whitehall. 
Important  indeed  are  his  powers  and  sometimes  absolutely 
necessary,  but  only  sometimes ;  the  less  used  the  better. 
If,  however,  this  absorption  of  power  gees  on  we  may  yet 
arrive  at  a  time  in  England  when  a  man  will  not  be  free  to 
blow  his  nose  without  a  Government  order,  for  fear  of  prop- 
agating the  influenza,  or  under  penalties  to  send  the  result 
to  a  Government  analyst.  Any  one  thinking  about  it  will 
see  how  much  easier  this  plausible  and  rough-and-ready 
means  of  solution  is  than  a  powerful  and  determined  stroke 
of  statesmanship,  by  which  the  laws  should  be  made  more 
systematic  and  perfect,  local  autho*-ities  reorganized  without 
revolution,  and  locrl  action  made  at  once  more  intelligent 
and  more  vigorous. 

Ho\^ever,  a  great  people  and  its  leading  press  had  com- 
bined to  give  themselves  up  into  the  hands  of  the  histrionic 
minister  aforesaid,  whoever  in  the  exigencies  of  party  he 
miglit  happen  to  be,  and  the  histrionic  minister  of  the  day 
sat  in  the  Focal  centre,  with  the  proud  consciousness  tliat 
every  Poor-law  board  and  every  local  administrative  body 
and  all  their  officers  were  under  his  thumb,  and  naked  and 


20 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


Open  to  his  Inspectorial  Argus.  The  latest  case  of  diarrhoea, 
the  coughing  of  some  ancient  cow,  the  dismissal  of  a  poor- 
house  nurse,  might  form  the  subjects  of  elaborate  reports  to  the 
mighty  Super-parochial  Archon  at  Whitehall.  Truth  forbids 
I  should  question  the  unquestionable  good  sometimes  done 
by  this  surveillance,  or  the  too  patent  necessity  for  some 
intervention ;  but  'A  is  surely  not  a  conclusive  reason  for 
reversing  the  poHcy  of  centuries  and  resorting  to  central- 
ization, that  bad  laws  were  badly  administered  by  badly- 
cciistituted  local  authorities.  It  would  seem  to  an  ordinary 
mind  more  rational  to  try  first  the  effect  of  better  laws  ad- 
ministered by  better-constituted  authorities,  under  a  super- 
vising instead  of  a  dictatorial  power. 

Little  Hodge  was  destined  to  come  under  the  surveillance 
of  Super-Parochus.  Not  that  the  Union  nursling  made  any 
noise.  Few  were  his  piping  plaints  and  small  enough  his 
needs.  But  one  day  as  the  great  Minister  sat  at  his  desk, 
discussing  wilh  a  permanent  secretary  and  a  clerk  some 
memoranda  made  by  the  latter  upon  reports  received  from 
all  parts  of  the  country,  he  came  across  the  ioUowing 
minute ; 

"  Report  from  Coddldon  Union :  generally  satisf.  Nunt- 
bers  relieved  through  the  Q^. 

Indoor  {both  sexes)         .         .        ^67 
Outdoor  ....       1643 

Deaths  in  Union     .       8         _         , _.„__- 

Births    "     "  .5   ". 

"  The  Master  reports  one  of  the  latter^  male  child  of  a 


FOCAL    government! 


21 


woman  natned  Hodge,  who  died  after  birth,  as  smaller  than 
any  child  ever  kfiown  in  those  parts,  weighing  only  a  little 
over  3  lbs.  at  birth.  Child  of  John  Hodge,  a  laborer,  with 
ten  other  small  children.  Its  size  being  so  inconsiderable, 
and  the  father  being  totally  uttahle  to  provide  any  one  to  take 
care  of  it,  the  infant  has  been  retained  in  the  Union,  but  at 
no  expense,  being  suckled  by  Anna  Maria  Simmons  above 
reported'* 


The  great  Minister  pensed  this  minute  and  knit  his  brows. 

"  This  is  one  more  evidence,"  said  he,  "  of  the  wisdom  of 
our  recent  measure.  You  see  how  this  Board  of  Guardians 
m  the  most  illegal  manner  keep  this  child  on  at  the  expense 
of  the  ratepayers,  when  it  has  a  parent  whose  duty  it  is  to 
provide  for  it.     We  really  cannot  overlook  this." 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  Dockster,  the  clerk,  "  it  must  be  admit- 
ted, sir,  the  case  is,  as  I  may  say,  sui  generis.  The  facts 
seem  to  show  that  the  father  could  not  take  care  of  it,  and 
it  does  not  appear  to  cost  the  Union  anything,  as  it  is  nour- 
ished by  the  girl  Simmons."  V 

"As  regards  your  first  point,"  said  the  Minister,  "  the  an- 
swer is  conclusive.  To  an  able-bodied  man  in  England 
nothing  is  impossible.  And  as  to  the  second  point,  who 
nourishes  the  girl  Simmons,  Mr.  Dockster  ?  Is  she  not  fed 
at  the  expense  of  the  Union,  and  are  we  to  believe  that  she 
can  feed  two  children  on  the  same  diet  and  stimulant  as 
would  suffice  for  one  ?  Sir,  it  is  contrary  to  reason  and  to 
the  laws  of  physics." 


23 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


"  Exactly  what  I  should  have  said,"  remarked  the  penna- 
ment  secretary. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Dockster,  "  this  would  be  perfectly  true 
in  most  cases  ;  but,"  he  added,  with  a  ghastly  effort  to  smile, 
"  this  child  is  peculiarly  diminutive,  and  I  may  say,  under 
correction,  {/e  fninir/i is  non  curaf  lex." 

"  Mr.  Dockster,"  said  the  Minister,  severely,  "  I  am  aston- 
ished that  after  so  many  years'  service  in  this  department, 
and  possessed  as  you  are  of  an  intimate  acquaintance  with 
our  recent  policy,  you  should  quote  to  Me  that  hackneyed 
and  long-exploded  aphorism  !  I'd  have  you  know,  sir,  that 
in  the  present  dispensation  of  this  department  there  is  noth- 
ing too  small  to  be  beneath  our  notice,  and  it  has,  as  you 
well  know,  been  my  humble  endeavor  to  organize  an  inspec- 
torial system  so  perfect  as  to  bring  every  molecule  in  the 
British  Islands  within  the  scope — I  might  say  the  microscope 
— of  the  Focal  Government  Board." 

Mr.  Dockster  was  crushed  by  this  tremendous  rebuke. 
The  permanent  secretary  took  up  the  dialogue.  •' 

**  This  matter  must  be  fully  investigated.  Make  a  note, 
Mr.  Dockster,  to  write  a  letter  to  the  clerk  of  tlie  Guardians 
requesting  an  explanation."  '  '  '"^■ 

And  the  august  trio  passed  to  other  business. 

Thus  Mr.  Caldwell's  legal  instinct  proved  true,  and  the 
supreme  administrators  of  the  law  {fid  take  note  of  Little 
Hodge's  oblique  and  petty  drain  on  the  national  resources. 

Ah,  Mr.  Dockster,  Mr.  Super-Parochus,  Mr.  Permanent- 
Secretary  !  but  there  is  an  aspect  in  which  tliat  aphorism  is 
a  historical  text  I     How  long  of  such  minims,  and  the  like 


LOCAL  VERSUS  FOCAL. 


23 


of  such  minims,  has  the  law  been  too  uncareful  ?  Of  the 
very  poor,  very  weak,  very  humble  and  little  ones  scattered 
over  tliis  broad,  rich  country,  how  small  hath  been  the  anxi- 
ety of  the  laws,  or  of  society,  the  instigator  of  the  laws  ?  If 
now  the  minims  cry  out  and  make  themselves  heard,  and 
swell  portentously  into  great  bodies,  requiring  instant  atten- 
tion, what  if  the  neglect  of  the  past  shall  have  left  them  such 
that  caring  for  them  is  less  easy,  or  even  involves  some  great 
and  permanent  revolution?  Yet  will  it  not  be  a  blessed 
revolution  alone  that  we  shall  turn  and  care  for  these  very 
little  ones  ? 

V 

CHAPTER  VII. 


V  .  LOCAL  VERSUS   FOCAL.       - 

At  the  first  meeting  of  the  Guardians  which  took  place 
after  the  conversation  last  reported,  Little  Hodge  was  an 
item  among  the  agenda.  The  clerk  read  a  letter  in  these 
terms : 

*«  Focal  Government  Board, 

*•  Whitehall,  June  30/^,  18—. 

"  Sir^" — I  am  to  state,  for  the  information  of  the  Guardians^ 
that  the  attention  of  the  President  has  been  called  to  a  minute 
in  the  last  quarterly  report  from  Coddleton  Union,  respecting 
the  case  of  an  infant, — Hodge,  child  of  John  Hodge,  of  Han- 
kerley,  stated  to  be  still  maintained  within  the  workhouse,  al- 
though it  appears  that  the  father  is  neither  an  inmate^  nor 
imbecile,  nor  dead^  nor  in  receipt  of  outdoor  relief. 


24 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


i 


**  /  am  directed  by  the  President  to  point  out  that  this  is 
an  irregularity  of  a  grave  character^  which  demands  explan- 
ation, or  may  give  rise  to  a  searching  inquiry,  necessitatirg 
the  visit  of  a  Special  Commissioner  to  examine  into  the  cir- 
cumstances. In  the  meanwhile  I  am  to  ask  you  to  request  the 
Board  to  forward  to  this  department  a  statement  of  the  facts 
and  of  the  grounds^  if  any,  of  their  departure  from  the 
proper  legal  course.    '  -  .  '  ^; 

'''' I  have  the  honor,  6^r., 
^^  ^^^^^^^    ^  ^      -     "Jeremy  DocKSTER. 

To  Peter  Plimsoll  Bond,  Esq., 
^C,  dr'C.,  d^r." 


(( 


»;^ -'•■•' 


The  Guardians  looked  at  each  other  when  this  letter  was 
read.  Mr.  Caldwell's  face  wore  a  satisfied  look  as  of  a  man 
who  had  predicted  the  worst  and  happily  hit  upon  it.  The 
Squire  first  broke  silence.  Pink,  and  rosy,  and  passionate 
was  the  look  of  his  cheeks  through  his  gray  whiskers  over 
his  high  collar.         -  :      ^^    ^^^      .o-     ' 

"  Demme,"  said  he,  "  this  Focal  Government  Board  is  get- 
ting to  be  altogether  too  cocky  and  crotchety.  What  the 
d (I  beg  your  pardon,  my  good  friend,  but  really  Scrip- 
tural language  won't  meet  the  exigency  of  the  case)  has  the 
President  of  the  Board  to  do  with  our  spending  our  own 
money  on  this  trumpery  chit  if  we  like  to  do  it  ?  It's  not  a 
matter  of  forty  shillings,  and  he  threatens  us  with  a  commis- 
sion !  Why,  demme,  gentlemen,  if  this  goes  on  you  won't 
get  any  gentlemen  of  respectability  to  take  a  seat  at  any 
board  in  the  country.     Are  the  heads  of  some  of  the  best 


l!3 


LOCAL  VERSUS  FOCAL. 


25 


and  oldest  families  in  the  country  to  be  bullied  and  hectored 
by  any  upstart  jack-in-office  who  has  tickled  the  ears  of  the 
democracy  with  his  tongue,  and  got  the  reward  of  it  from  a 
Radical  Government  ?     Really,  sir- 


1} 


The  Squire's  choler  grew  so  hot  and  foamed  so  high  he 
could  not  express  himself,  and  he  thumped  his  hand  on  the 
table  with  the  vigor  of  a  prize-fighter.  He  was  anything  but 
a  trampled  worm. 

"  I  must  say,"  said  Mr.  Leicester,  mildly,  "  that  I  think 
this  is  reducing  local  government  to  an  absurdity.  We  sit 
here  as  a  number  of  intelligent  persons  " — the  parson's  eye 
looked  doubtfully  round  upon  some  of  his  audience — "  sim- 
ply to  register  tiie  decrees  of  Mr.  Mordant.  Were  I  not 
necessarily  a  member  I  should  certainly  withdraw  from  a 
body  so  completely  overfaced." 

The  Squire  looked  approvingly  at  the  parson. 

"  But  what  about  the  child  ?  "  said  the  attorney.  "  Is  it 
worth  while  fighting  the  President  about  so  small  a  thing, 
eh  ?     Our  only  plea  is  its  size  I  think,  Mr.  Clerk  ?  " 

"  I  know  of  nothing  else,"  said  Mr.  Bond,  the  Clerk,  "  that 
we  can  put  forward  as  an  excuse.  We're  certainly  maintain- 
ing the  child." 

"It's  much  ado  about  nothin',  to  my  mind,"  said  Mr. 
Harris.  *'  The  child  ain't  nothin',  he  don't  cost  nothin',  and 
he's  not  to  'ave  nothin'.  That's  about  it,  eh,  Mr.  Cald- 
well ?  " 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  very  good,"  said  the  attorney,  who  had  rea- 
sons for  keeping  on  good  terms  with  Harris,  but  who,  seeing 
that  the  Vicar  and  the  Squire  did  nut  move  a  muscle,  sud- 


'•mmUm'- 


26 


LITTL  E     HODGE 


denly  made  a  violent  effort  and  drew  his  face  into  a  shock- 
ing state  of  gravity.  "  But  nevertheless,  Mr.  Harris,  a  joke 
somewhat  ill-timed,  eh  ?  For  it  really  is  a  serious  question, 
What  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"  Fight  it  to  the  death,  I  say,"  cried  Captain  Collingsby, 
who  in  his  time  had  done  something  of  that  sort  in  more 
than  words,  and  would  no  doubt  have  trained  a  sixty-four 
pounder  on  the  offices  of  Focal  Government  without  any 
compunction.  "  It's  not  a  question  of  size.  If  this  child 
was  as  big  as  Og,  or  Gog  either,  and  required  a  puncheon  a 
day,  'twould  be  all  the  same.  I  stand  upon  the  principle  of 
the  thing.  If  a  lubber  at  head-quarters  is  to  poke  his  nose 
in  every  little  transaction  of  this  sort,  when  this  Board  is 
perfectly  capable  of  forming  an  opinion,  let  him  come  and 
sit  here  and  administer  the  Poor-law  himself.  I'm  hanged  if 
I'll  sit  here  to  register  his  orders." 

"  Hum,  Cap'n,"  said  Mr.  Harris,  tradesman  in  wholesale 
and  retail  matters  all  around  the  district,  whose  election  to 
the  Board  was  no  little  humiliation  to  some  of  its  members, 
for  the  Coddleton  district  was  an  old-fashioned  and  secluded 
one,  and  Harris  was  a  fellow  unpleasantly  commercial  and 
radical,  "  I  think,  Cap'n,  they  might  administer  it  better  than 
it  has  been  done  :  more  to  the  advantage  of  the  ratepayers 
and  less  of  the  gentlemen.  Perhaps  if  you  dissensAuns  was 
to  retire  we  might  get  in  some  men  who  knew  somethin* 
about  business " 

"  And  how  to  feather  their  nest,"  added  the  Captain. 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt,"  said  the  Squire,  looking  straight 
away  from  the  merchant,  "  that  the  gentleman  has  an  inti- 


LOCAL    VERSUS    FOCAL 


27 


*  mate  aqiiaintance  with  business  of  a  certain  kind,  such  as 
coals,  or  tallow-chandlery,  and  manures,  and  possibly  others 
of  similar  qualifications  could  be  found  to  undertake  the 
duties  of  the  Board,  especially  if  their  nephews  were  in  trade 
also ;  but  I  take  leave  to  say  that  there  are  several  sorts  of 
*  business,'  and  several  ways  of  doing  'business,'  and  if  the 
country  is  to  have  the  Poor-law  administered  as  it  ought  to 
be,  it  must  be  administered  by  men  of  means  and  position." 

"All  right,"  said  Mr.  Harris,  good-naturedly;  "but  of 
course,  if  the  gentlemen  retires^  the  tradesmen  '11  take  it 
up."  ' 

"  But,"  insisted  Mr.  Caldwell,  "  now  we  have  cleared  the 
air,  let  me  ask  again.  What  is  to  be  done  with — a — blank 
Hodge Why  the  deuce  hasn't  it  been  baptized,  Mr. 


Bond?"  ..;:.>?^-'  <.-m..--.L...:-:^    ■    ,;.:../-.;■'>.,;.::  ..,.-->. -.•^;, 

"  Not  baptized  ? "   cried  Mr.   Leicester.     "  Impossible  ! 
Some  one  must  have  done  it ! " 

,^  The  consternation  was  general.  Mr.  Mee  was  referred 
to,  and  it  indeed  turned  out  that  the  troublesome  little 
heathen  had  not  been  received  within  the  pale  of  the 
Church.  To  the  disgust  of  both  the  attorney  and  the  mer- 
chant, Mr.  Leicester  refused  to  go  on  with  any  more  busi- 
ness until  this  untoward  defect  was  remedied.  He  could 
not  conscientiously  proceed  with  a  discussion  vitally  affect- 
ing this  child's  interests,  if  it  were  as  yet  an  unreclaimed, 
unchristoned  child  of  nature.  Dying  in  that  state  it  could 
not  be  buried  in  consecrated  ground.  The  Vicar's  earnest- 
ness and  sincerity  carried  the  day.  It  was  informally  re- 
solved to  have  the  child  in  and  christen  him  forthwith. 


28 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


Anna  Maria  brought  him  into  the  Board-room  and  held 
him  forth  while  the  Vicar,  after  reading  part  of  the  service, 
dipped  his  hands  in  a  parish  basin. 

"What  shall  I  call  him?"  asked  the  Vicar,  suddenly  alive 
to  the  necessity  of  a  name. 

"Well,"  said  the  unconscionable  attorney,  "you  might 
use  a  Scriptural  authority.     *  There  is  little  Benjamin.' " 

"  Little  Benjamin,"  said  the  Vicar,  with  his  eyes  shut,  "  I 
baptize  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.     Amen  ! "  , v;- 

Thus  Little  Hodge  became  a  Christian. 


Resuming  the  discussion  after  this  episode,  the  farmers 
on  the  main  question  joined  with  the  Captain  and  the 
Squire.  This  they  saw  to  be  a  critical  case.  The  Minister 
was  evidently  determined  to  arrogate  every  jot  of  authority, 
and  to  make  the  Guardians  what  Britons  never  will  be. 
By  reducing  their  discretion  to  nothing,  he  would  diminish 
their  control  of  the  labor  market.  It  was  therefore  resolved, 
spite  of  the  protests  of  ex-officio  and  other  members,  that  a 
reply  to  Mr.  Dockster's  letter  should  be  sent  to  the  Focal 
Governmeni  Board,  deprecating  its  interference  in  ;i  matter 
solely  withiij  the  province  of  the  Guardians,  stating  as  strong 
a  case  as  possible  for  Hodge  and  the  infant,  and  announcing 
the  resolution  of  the  Guardians  to  continue  the  parochial 
supervision  of  Anna  Maria's  bounty  to  Little  Hodge. 

Only  an  Englishman  could  understand  the  proceedings 
that  thereupon  followed.  A  special  Governn?ent  inspector 
— the  ordinary  inspector  was  not  considered  equal  to  this 


LOCAL  VERSUS  FOCAL. 


2$ 


great  emergency — arrived  at  Coddleton  and  took  up  his 
quarters  at  the  "Coddleton  Arms."  He  visited  the  Union, 
examined  the  master,  examined  Anna  Maria  Simmons, 
examined  Little  Hodge ;  ascertained  the  exact  amount 
of  pabulum  and  stimulant  taken  by  the  young  woman, 
and  compared  it  with  that  given  to  others  of  her  size 
and  weight.  The  result  was  an  elaborate  report  to  the 
central  authority,  in  which,  after  a  careful  chemical  analysis, 
Dr.  Surchas  came  to  the  conclusion  that  four  ounces  a  day 
of  food  and  half  a  pint  of  stout  was  the  amount  of  extra 
consumption  for  which  Little  Hodge  was  distiactly  responsi- 
ble ;  that  the  ratepayers  were  consequently  to  that  extent 
defrauded ;  and  he  advised  that  immediate  action  should  be 
taken  to  vindicate  the  law. 

In  consequence  of  this  report  a  peremptory  order  came 
down  to  the  Board  of  Guardians  to  withdraw  at  once  its 
illegal  relief  from  the  infant  Hodge,  and  to  enforce  upon 
the  father  the  duty  of  its  maintenance,  or  serious  conse- 
quences might  ensue  to  all  concerned.  The  Board  yielded 
with  bad  grace.  Englishmen  are  all  like  Falstaff.  They 
like  not  to  do  even  their  duty  under  compulsion,  and  this  is 
a  characteristic  well  worthy  the  consideration  of  both  legis- 
lators and  administrators. 


■  ■  ^w 


PART  II. 


OUT  OF  ONE  UNION  INTO  ANOTHER. 


'' »'«.' 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  RIGOR  OF  THE  IMPOSSIBLE. 


Hodge  took  in  very  bad  part  the  notice  that  his  tiny  son 
was  to  be  returned  upon  his  hands,  to  be  by  him  fed, 
clothed,  tended,  and  brought  up  to  years  of  laborious  dis- 
cretion. There  is  little  room  for  impartial  consideration 
when  Necessity  sets  her  hard,  iron  heel  upon  a  man.  I 
cannot  hold  him  very  responsible  for  what  he  then  thinks 
*-nd  says.  .  *■ 

The  problem  arising  out  of  the  situation  had  troubled 
him  at  his  wile's  grave.  Now  it  could  no  longer  be  re- 
garded, with  the  eye  of  a  philosopher,  as  looming  in  the  dis- 
tance. Here  it  was ;  a  present  practical  joke  of  Nature 
whereof  Hodge  was  the  victim.  Yokel-iike  he  put  oiT  the 
question  as  long  as  he  could  ;  and  thus  it  happened  that 
the  day  after  he  had  received  the  notice,  he  came  home  t  ■> 
find  Little  Hodge  chirping  in  the  arms  of  Jemima  Mary,his 
eldest  hope.  From  six  years  old  to  twelve,  Mary's  small 
arms  had  held  not  a  few  babies,  and  the  shape  of  her  back 
had  rather  suffered  by  it ;  but  never  had  she  nursed  one  so 
proportionate  with  her  own  size  as  her  present  fondling. 
So  it  seemed  to  Hodge  as  he  looked  at  the  Uttle  woman 


■"•SP" 


THE     RIGOR    OF    THE     IMPOSSIBLE. 


31 


cradling  on  her  lap  the  doll-like  baby,  its  brothers  and  sis- 
ters crowding  wonderingly  around.  Their  exclamations 
\yere  very  entertaining,  had  Hodge  been  in  a  mood  to  be 
entertained. 

A  film  came  over  the  poor  man's  sight  as  he  looked. 
Then  he  held  his  great  .  ^er  towards  the  elfin  child,  and  it 
vainly  strove  to  curl  its  small  tentacles  round  that  horny 
stem,  as  it  smiled  a  quaint  smile  to  its  troubled  parent.  It 
was  a  pretty  enough  scene  this,  or  would  '  ave  looked  so  on 
paper,  or  in  fact  anywhere  except  in  real  life.  This  man 
felt  it  to  be  unutterably  painful,  as  he  thought  on  all  the 
prospects  that  it  suggested.  Little  Jemima  Mary  was  clearly 
incapacitated  to  be  a  permanent  nurse  to  the  baby.  It  was 
fun  to  her  to  hold  the  then  well-fed  doll  an  hour  or  two  in 
her  arms,  but  how  could  she  nurse,  feed,  physic,  and  tend  it  ? 
And  how  could  he  afford  to  pay  any  one  to  do  it — or  give 
up  his  livelihood  to  do  it  himself?  He  took  up  the  nurs- 
ling in  his  hand  as  he  mused  on  this  difficulty.  The  "  little 
un  "  crowed  and  peeped  like  a  chicken  just  unegged,  and 
the  strong  man's  hand  trembled  a  moment  as  he  thought 
how  easily  a  turn  of  that  wrist  would  relieve  him  of  the 
problem.  But  it  grew  firm  again  directly,  for  there  was  a 
deep  gentle  nature  in  this  simple  rustic. 

"  Mary,"  said  he,  uttering  once  more  the  formula  ever  in 
his  mind,  "b'alnt  he  a  little  un?" 

"Ay,  father,  b'aint  he?" 

*•  How  shall  us  keep  him,  Mary  ?  WTio's  to  be  a  mother 
to  him?" 

"  I'll  be  'is  mother,"  said  Mary,  assuming  as  matronly  an 


"T,|KP  ■-"?-'■':"■>**.' 


32 


LITTLE    HODGE, 


yir  as  Ler  size  would  admit  of.  "  I  can  take  care  on  iin 
nicely,  fayther,  so  as  you'll  dress  the  children.  An'  theer's 
Tummas,  'ee's  'andy  too,  he'll  help  we  to  do  it,  won't  'ee, 
Tumnias?" 

To  tell  the  truth,  Tummas — his  name  was  not  Thomas, 
and  never  was  meant  to  be — preferred  bird-nesting  and 
stile-riding  to  giving  any  aid  in  domestic  work,  but  under 
the  pressure  of  his  father^s  presence,  he  graciously  assented 
to  this  proposal. 

"  Naw,  Hwont  do  ! "  exclaimed  Hodge,  energetically  stamp- 
ing his  foot.  "Thee  can't  manage  it,  Mary !  Who's  to  bile 
the  taters,  an'  make  the  broth,  an'  dress  out  all  the  young- 
sters, an'  give  this  little  beggar  'is  food  an'  jc ....  after  him? 
Law,  but  he  be  a  small  mowld  of  his  mother !  Poor 
woman  !  I  wish  she  were  here,  Mary !  You  take  the  baby, 
Mary,"  said  he,  softly,  putting  back  the  dwariling  into  Mj^. 
ry*s  lap  as  she  sat  on  the  stool,  and  walking  gently  out  of 
the  hou^e.  Mary  discerned  him  but  dimly  through  the 
lozenged  panes,  but  she  could  see  that  with  head  bent  he 
slowly  went  towards  the  churchyard ;  and  her  tears  falling  on 
the  child's  face  made  it  cry.  In  a  minute  the  otb*  nine 
were  in  full  chorus. 


CHAPTER  11. 


NOTICE  BEFORE  ACTION. 


John  Hodge,  as  tlie  Guardians  had  failed  him,  thought  it 
right  to  resort  to  his  master.     He  must  either  have  tne 


NOTICE     BEFORE    ACTION 


33 


child  taken  care  of  for  him,  or  get  the  means  to  pay  for 
taking  care  of  it.  We  need  not  be  hard  upon  his  logic.  It 
was  bad,  but  natural.  We  must  allow  it  not  to  be  arguable 
that  an  extra  child  at  home  is  any  ground  for  an  increase  of 
wages.  Yet  for  a  man  to  be  so  scantily  paid  that,  even  with 
honest  thrift,  such  an  addition  to  his  expenses  should  be 
fatal  to  his  domestic  economy  was  a  fact  of  enough  gravity 
to  be  worth  the  wage-payer's  notice.  Any  one  skimming 
starvation  at  such  a  hair's-breadth  cannot  be  earning  proper 
wages,  and  certainly  cannot  properly  do  his  work.  Hodge 
was  not  at  the  moment  equal  to  so  fine  an  argiunent ;  and, 
though  he  had  resolved  to  ask  for  better  pay,  he  hung  back 
when  the  time  came  to  act  on  his  resolution.  Twice  or 
thrice  he  lay  in  wait  for  Mr.  Jolly,  but  no  sooner  was  he 
face  to  face  with  the  farmer,  than  the  serf's  heart  in  Hodge 
failed  him  :  his  desires  would  not  stumble  out. 

Now,  however,  every  day  was  squeezing  frjsh  drops  of 
blood  from  Hodge's  heart.  He  had  been  obliged  to  stint 
the  other  children  to  get  the  poor  pint  of  skim-milk  which, 
badly  mingled  with  the  floor  by  the  joint  cookery  of  himself 
and  Mary,  constituted  the  manikin's  diet,  or  to  pay  a  woman 
now  and  then  to  come  and  rescue  his  house  from  absolute 
chaos.  He  began  to  see  in  his  family  the  painful  signs  of 
hollowness  and  want.  Little  Hodge's  body  seemed  to  hrink 
dismally  smaller.  Hodge  pinched  himself  and  went  forth  to 
his  labor  of  a  morning  with  a  gnawing  within,  which,  like  the 
prodigal,  he — the  reverse  of  prodigal !  —  strove  to  appease 
with  the  hips  and  haws  his  master's  swine  would  not  have 


(Mccn. 


8 


•K'^miPiiff=^^^f^ 


34 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


I  I 


Think,  whether  you  be  man  or  woman,  or  hapj)/  little 
child,  what  it  is  or  might  be  to  work  twelve  hours  with 
an  unfilled  stomach,  with  a  yearning  for  food  unattainable 
not  only  this  hour,  but  the  next,  and  the  next,  and  the 
next,  and  so  on  through  the  weary  working-day,  and  no  hope 
that  it  will  be  relieved  at  night!  Could  you  invent. us  any 
torture  more  skilful,  any  physical  pain  or  trial  more  refined 
and  unrelenting  than  this?  Yet,  how  true  it  is  that  many 
a  poor  soil-tiller,  inwardly  gnawed  with  such  cravings  as 
these,  pursues  with  patience  his  ill-paid  toil,  or  vainly  en- 
deavors with  some  crude  woody  vegetable  to  stay  his  hunger, 
and  returns  at  eventide  to  his  home  but  an  apology  for  the 
man  he  ought  to  be. 

Little  Mary,  with  a  God-given  instinct  of  mothcrliness, 
cheated  herself  of  some  of  her  own  petty  portion  ;  and  with 
her  constant  care  of  the  sickening,  peevish  dwarfling,  grew 
day  by  day  so  thin  and  haggard,  that  her  father's  ?*ncken 
heart  smote  him  yet  more  sorely  as  he  looked  at  her.  God 
help  me  !  The  picture  of  this  empty  man  sitting  of  an  even- 
ing, soil-stained  and  toil-weary,  facing  the  eleven  with  all 
their  wants,  and  brooding  over  the  desperate  prospects  of 
yet  more  trying  times,  rises  before  me  with  such  vividness, 
that  1  find  myself  trembling  with  an  anguish  and  pity  I  can- 
not, dare  not  try  to  express.  I  can  only  wonder  at  his  pa- 
tience— patience  as  of  a  dumb  dog ;  very  beautiful,  but  oh, 
how  pitiful !  how  pitiful  1 

At  length  flesh  and  blood  could  bear  it  no  longer.  Des- 
peration gave  him  boldness.  He  watched  his  opportunity, 
and  when  Farmer  Jolly  came  into  the  field  where  he  was 


NOTICE     BEFORE    ACTION. 


35 


cutting  the  grass,  the  mar;,  with  a  sidelong  gait,  drew  near 

the  burly  tenant. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  might  I  say  a  word  to  you,  sir  ?" 
"Say  a  word  to  me?"  replied  the  farmer,  looking  hard  at 

the  man.     "  What  about ?  " 

Hodge. — Why,  you  see,  sir  (a  twist),  you  do  know  (a 

shrug),  you've  a  heard,  sir  (a  kick  and  squirm  of  the  right 

leg),- 

Jolly. — What  the  deuce  are  you  driving  at?  Do  you 
want  some  milk  for  the  young  un,  or  the  loan  of  a  shilling  ? 
You've  been  caught  bagging  a  hare,  perhaps,  and  if  so  I 
cannot  help  you.  We  are  determined  to  put  down  all 
the  poaching  hereabouts. 

HoEGE. — Naw,  sir,  it  bain't  none  o'  they  things.  But 
you  see,  sir,  my  poor  Mary  having  a  died,  an'  there  being  no 
relashun  of  the  women-kind,  sir,  left  to  me  as  I  do  know  on, 
not  a  soul  to  undertake  care  of  the  baby  except  Mary,  and 
her  not  old  enough,  nor  yet  handy  to  it 


Jolly. — Do  you  want  me  to  take  charge  of  it,  then  ? 

Hodge. — Naw,  sir ;  but  look  ee  here,  sir,  if  so  be  as  I 
could  a  paid  a  neighbor's  wife  or  darter  to  take  care  oi"  the 
little  baby,  we'd  could  a  got  along  bravely,  but  'twould  cost 
three  or  four  shillin'  a  week,  and  I  can't  spare  that  from  the 
wages  I'm  a  earnen,  you  see,  sir. 

Jolly. — Then  go  to  the  Union.  I'm  one  of  the  guar- 
dians,  you  know.  Get  a  doctor's  certificate  of  your  chil- 
drr»4i's  illness,  and  they  will  give  you  as  much  food  as  you 
want. 

Hodge. — Naw,  sir,  thankee,  not  for  1.     I  ain't  the  man 


3« 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


for  to  go  an'  beg  what  I  ain't  a  earned,  sir.  I  never  did  and 
I  never  will,  if  I  starves  for  it. 

Jolly. — The  more  fool  you,  then.  AVliat's  the  workhouse 
for  but  to  help  the  like  of  you  at  such  times  ?  Why  do  you 
set  yourself  up  to  be  better  than  other  men  ? 

The  farmer  had  h't  upon  a  t^uasi-moraX  principle  applica- 
ble to  the  case,  and  as  people  are  apt  to  do  when  they  are 
hard  up  for  a  good  argument,  applied  it  with  some  asperity. 

Hodge. — 'Taint  cause  I  be  better'n  my  neighbors,  replied 
Kodge.  Howsomever  Mary  an'  I,  though  we've  ben  put 
to  for  it  now  an'  then,  alius  kept  clear  of  the  Union,  *cept  at 
times  when  'tweren't  possible  to  help  it,  an*  please  God,  I'll 
go  on  for  to  do  the  same.  But  don't  ee  think,  sir,  my  wages 
could  be  riscd  a  couple  o'  shillins  ?  (There  was  a  tremen- 
dous effort  at  swallowing  when  Hodge  came  out  with  this.) 
You  do  know,  sir,  I've  alius  been  a  spry  chap ;  I  can  do 
amost  as  much  again  as  most  men  in  Hankerley,  an'  I  do 
say  I'm  worth  more  than  most. 

This  was  true.  Hodge  was  worth  more  than  any  of  the 
men  on  the  farm,  both  as  regarded  experience  and  ability, 
and  had  he  been  paid  proportionately  would  have  earned 
from  twelve  to  fifteen  shillings  a  week.  Farmer  Jolly  was 
too  English  not  to  see  the  justice  of  this,  but  he  was  too 
English  to  own  it  when  it  did  not  suit  him. 

Jolly. — Why,  man,  you  aren't  paid  in  that  way.  You 
know  you  all  go  share  and  share  alike  pretty  much,  'cept  the 
ploughman.  Don't  I  give  ee  a  house  for  nothing,  and  plenty 
of  ale,  and  draw  wood  for  you  ?    You  know  very  well  I 


NOTICE     BEFORE    ACTION. 


37 


can't  rise  your  wages.     Every  farmer  in  the  neighborhood 
would  be  down  upon  me. 

Hodge  (earnestly).  — But,  master,  is  that  a  reason  for  not 
doing  justice  to  I  ?  If  so  be  it's  true,  you  do  know,  that 
I  does  more'n  the  rest  of  the  folk,  an'  they  all  gets  their 
houses  an'  ale,  an'  wood  drawn,  too,  then  I  do  only  get  the 
same  wages  as  they. 

Jolly. — Oh,  I  can't  argue  with  you.     Take  it  or  leave  it. 

Hodge. — Indeed,  sir,  'tis  the  truth;  I  can't  go  no  longer 
as  I've  been  doing.  We  be  all  starvin'  at  home,  an'  I  ain't 
eat  a  fit  meal  these  ten  days. 

The  farmer  saw  something  playing  in  the  man's  eyes,  but 
he  said : 

Jolly. — If  it  comes  to  that,  am  I  to  starve,  or  you,  man  ? 
Go  up  to  the  house  and  tell  my  wife  to  give  ee  a  loaf  and  a 
rasher  of  bacon,  and  a  quart  of  new  milk  for  the  child.  But 
look  here,  sir,  don't  talk  to  me  or  any  om'  else  about  rising 
wages  again.  If  we  rise  one  we'll  have  to  rise  all,  and  it 
would  be  dead  ruination. 

He  turned  to  go,  but  Hodge  was  desperate. 

Hodge  (with  sudden  energy). — If  you  please,  sir,  that 
won't  satisfy  I.  I  thank  ee  for  the  loaf,  an'  the  bacon,  an' 
the  milk  ^or  the  baby,  but  'taint  only  one  meal,  and  'twoan't 
keep  us  very  long.  I've  told  ee,  sir,  I  can't  live  an'  work 
on  nine  shillin'  a  week,  .  n'  what's  more,  sir,  /say  I woTit. 

Hodge  had  gradually  worked  himself  up  to  a  pitch  of  in-« 
dignant  boldness,  rare  in  his  slow,  passive  life.     The  farmer 
was  surprised  and  uneasy  at  it.     The  whip  trembled  in  his 
hand. 


38 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


Jolly. — D it,  do  you  know  who  you're  speaking  to, 

you  ungrateful  cur,  you  ?  You  and  your  family  have  been 
living  on  my  place  these  twenty  years,  and  after  all  the 
kindness  I've  :hown  you,  and  never  failing  to  pay  you  your 
wages  winter  or  summer,  wet  or  dry,  and  gifts  at  Christmas 
into  the  bargain,  you  turn  on  me  the  first  time  you  get  into 
trouble,  and  ask  for  more  wages.  And  you'll  set  all  the 
rest  by  the  ears,  too,  I'll  lay  on  it.  Now,  look  here,  Hodge, 
I  give  you  fair  warning;  I'll  overlook  it  this  time,  but,  if  I 
hear  another  word  of  tliis  sort,  off  this  farm  you'll  go  ;  and 
I'll  take  good  care  you  shall  not  get  work  within  twenty 
miles.  So,  as  your  friend,  I  advise  you  to  think  of  it,  and 
meanwhile,  do  the  best  you  can  for  a  week,  and  if  you  must 
have  help,  go  where  the  others  yo ;  the  parish  is  bound  to 
help  you.  /    / 

"  They've  a  sent  me  back  my  little  'un  ! "  cried  Hodge,  as 
the  farmer  strode  away.  The  man's  feelings  were  a  com- 
pound of  regret  and  indignation.  He  could  not  stifle  a 
curious  sense  of  remorse  (so  imperfect  were  his  moral  ideas) 
that  a  relation  of  so  many  years  should  be  jeopardized  by  his 
own  act ;  it  is  curious  how  from  long  acquiescence  or  pas- 
sivity a  sense  of  meanness  often  attends  the  act  of  repulsion 
or  change ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  Hodge  felt  sure  that,  apart 
from  his  special  need,  his  claim  was  just,  and  that  the  farmer 
had  put  him  off  with  reasons  that  were  no  reasons. 
^  I  am  not  careful  to  analyze  Mr.  Jolly's  thoughts.  He 
was  a  good-natured  bucolic  in  his  way,  thougli  he  was  inca- 
pable of  arguing  out  any  question  of  morals  or  economics 
very  clearly.     We  cannot  be  too  hard  upon  him.     He  was 


■fS^j^^"*™"^ 


THE    CHURCH    AND    SOCIAL    SCIENCE. 


39 


as  much  the  creature,  ay !  and  the  victim  of  a  system,  as  the 
other.  ;^  • 

* 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  CHURCH  AND  SOCIAL  SCIENCE. 

,;;  Bitter  enough,  though  necessarily  narrow  and  obfuscated, 
were  Hodge's  reflections  upon  this  interview  with  his  mas- 
ter. It  showed  how  terrible  was  the  strain  of  poverty  upon 
him,  how  rcsistlessly  loud  the  voice  of  his  children's  wants 
at  home,  that  he  mechanically  went  up  to  Jolly's  house,  and 
received  the  shameful  dole  the  latter  had  offered  him. 
:  It  gave  the  poor  man  twenty-four  hours'  respite  for 
thought.  *':--:"■  '-'^^^A-:::':r '■■''■'"':'' ^  ^'; '■■.  ■-■.'"^'■:  •:;S:'''.- ::•:;'■;. 

The  parish  had  fiiiled  him.  His  master  had  repelled  him. 
Hodge  now  somewhat  doubtfully  turned  to  the  parsoi). 
When  State  aid  and  the  law  of  supply  and  demand  break 
down,  can  the  Church  be  relied  on  for  succor  ?  The  Rev. 
Winwood  Leicester,  M.A.,  Vicar  of  Hankerley,  a  good  living 
in  the  gift  of  the  Byrtons,  came  into  that  living  only  a  short 
time  after  the  present  Squire's  return  from  the  university. 
He  had  consequently  seen  a  good  deal  of  his  patron,  who, 
appreciating  the  refined  and  genial  qualities  of  the  vicar» 
was  his  most  intimate  friend.  Mr.  Leicester  was  a  man  of 
that  combination  growing  more  frequent  as  the  age  goes  on 
— good  family  and  narrow  means.  He  had  brought  from 
Oxford  a  culture  and  reputation  which  it  seemed  a  pity  to 
bury  in  the  sequestered  district  of  Coddleton.     Yet  he  set- 


40 


I,  I  T  T  L  E    HODGE. 


I 


tied  down  naturally  among  the  landed  gentry  of  his  division 
of  the  county,  to  the  quiet,  monotonous  work,  social  and 
parochial,  of  his  position.  On  all  hands  he  was  respected. 
His  geniality  opened  him  to  the  confidence  of  rich  and  poor. 
At  Oxford  he  had  imbibed  the  views  of  the  Tractarians,  and 
in  the  course  of  years  developed  into  a  moderate  High 
Churchman.  In  public  he  appeared  in  a  dress  of  scrupu- 
lously careful  cut,  not  very  distantly  reminding  one  of  that 
of  a  Roman  Catholic  priest — a  similarity  enhanced  by  his 
felt  hat,  in  which,  however,  he  did  not  affect  the  rakishness 
and  ugliness  fashionable  with  some  divines. 

Mr.  Leicester  had  a  curate,  who  had  been  recommended 
to  him  by  no  less  an  authority  than  Dr.  Fussey  himself. 
The  Vicar  found  that  his  confidence  in  that  authority  had 
placed  him  in  an  awkward  position.  Mr.  Linkboy  was  of 
the  school  of  newer,  more  enlightened,  more  advanced  Rit- 
ualists. He  exceeded  the  Vicar  at  every  point.  His  coat 
was  longer,  his  waistcoat  was  of  more  cassocky  pattern,  his 
muslin  collar  was  nearly  invisible,  and  his  neck  was  as  relig- 
iously dirty  as  that  of  any  Catholic  priest  in  Christendom, 
while,  to  cap  all,  he  wore,  overshadowing  his  white  face,  a 
soft,  flabby  wide-awake  hat  of  such  portentc  us  dimensions, 
that  the  country-folk  around  had  dubbed  him  the  black 
mushroom — or  rather,  in  the  worst  circles,  "  twoad-stool." 
Mr.  Liwkboy,  nevertheless,  worked  hard  and  conscientiously 
against  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil.  He  eschewed 
the  one,  he  mortified  .the  other,  and  he  did  battle  with  the 
third  in  every  form  of  wickedness  from  drunkenness  up  to 
Primitive  Methodism.     True,  he  found  the  people  regarded 


THE     CHURCH    AND     SOCIAL    SCIENCE 


41 


him  with  aversion  as  a  "  Papist."  And  his  antics  both  in  the 
church  and  out  of  it  gave  some  ground  for  that  suspicion. 
There  were  many  who  thought  him  duly  quahfied  for  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  in  one  respect :  he  had  become  a  fool 
for  the  sake  of  it. 

;  When  the  curate  had  buried  Sarah  Hodge  he  had  resolved 
to  visit  her  family.  Twice  he  dropped  in  upon  little  Mary, 
but  his  grave  manners  and  astounding  hat  not  only  excited 
her  suspicion,  but  set  the  greater  part  of  the  infant  nine  off 
in  unsanctified  bowlings  grievous  to  hear.  Amid  some  such 
chorus  Mr.  Linkboy  bravely  knelt  and  read  some  prayers, 
and,  with  proper  crossings  and  ejaculations,  invoked  on 
Hodge's  children  the  benediction  of  Heaven.  Hodge  heard 
of  these  visits  with  a  sort  of  contemptuous  gratitude.  "  Aw, 
don't  ee  mind  him,  Mary;  'tain't  the  parson,  'tis  tha  curate. 
They  do  say  he  isn't  over  bright  in  the  head,  though  he  tries 
to  do  a  deal  of  good,  so  I'm  told." 

Hodge  then,  notwithstanding  the  curate's  advances  and 
manifestations  of  interest,  sought  out  the  more  genial  parson. 
He  slowly  went  up  the  small  carriage-sweep  towards  the  vic- 
arage, having  just  passed  his  wife's  grave  before  he  came 
through  the  swing-gate  from  the  churchyard,  one  Spring 
evening,  hearing  the  lark  far  up  above  the  steeple  singing  of 
heaven,  and  for  a  moment  wondering  whether  the  finger  of 
the  spire  really  did  point  to  where  Mary  had  gone. 

He  timidly  hung  about  the  trellised  porch,  staring  at  the 
Wisteria  which  traverst  J  the  front  of  the  house  on  vine  side, 
and  the  magnolia  which  decorated  it  on  the  other.  The 
Vicar,  from  his  seat  at  dinner  opposite  the  window,  had  seen 


42 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


him  coming  and  recognized  the  man.  With  his  usual  kind- 
ness he  sent  out  a  glass  of  beer  and  some  bread-and-cheesc, 
and  when,  after  dinner  was  over,  he  came  'o  the  porch  he 
found  Hodge  in  a  better  frame  of  mind  than  the  latter  in- 
tended in  coming  there.  Hodge  was  not  a  good  church-goer 
by  any  means,  and  Mr.  Leicester  knew  little  of  him  person- 
ally ;  but  his  recent  loss,  and  the  extraordinary  circumstance 
of  Little  Hodge's  history,  were  sufficient  to  give  the  Vicar 
an  interest  in  his  visitor 

"  Well,  Hodge,  do  you  want  to  see  me  ?  "  The  straight, 
broad-shouldered  clergyman,  with  his  refined  face  edged 
with  the  trim  gray  whiskers,  and  the  gray  curling  hair  around 
a  well-formed  head,  smiled  genially  enough  on  the  troubled 
peasant.  He  was  a  perfect  embodiment  of  the  gentleness, 
kiidliness,  dignity,  and  sunshine  of  the  Chu 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  rephed  Hodge,  pulling  his  hat  off. 

"Well,  see,  sit  down  on  that  seat  in  the  porch  and  I  will 
take  this  chair,"  said  the  other,  easily,  as  he  threw  himself 
into  a  seat  and  delicately  used  the  toothpick  he  held  in  his 
white  hand. 

"Now,  then,  how  is  the  little  man,  eh?  Let  me  see, 
*  Little  Benjamin'  I  christened  him.  Is  he  being  well  taken 
care  of?  " 

"  Naw,  sir,  that  be  just  the  thing  ;  he  'aint  been  taken 
care  of,  an'  he's  lookin'  very  bad,  sir,  this  long  while.  I've 
eleven  of  'em,  sir " 

"  Y:)s,  I  remember.  They  sent  you  home  the  boy  from  the 
Union.    Have  you  not  found  any  one  to  take  charge  of  it  ?  " 

"  Naw,  sir.     Where  be  I  to  get  he  taken  charge  on  ?    You 


■m:immm0^^' 


THE     CHURCH    AND    SOCIAL    SCIENCE. 


43 


see,  sir,  my  wages  be  but  nine  shillia'  a  week,  and  that  ain't 
a  shillin'  a  piece  all  round." 

"  Bless  my  heart,  neither  it  is  !  You  ought  to  have  some 
help  from  the  Union." 

"  I  don't  require  no  help  from  the  Union,  sir  ;  leastways 
I  don't  care  to  accept  it.  I'd  rather  be  independent  of 'em 
if  I  can,  sir " 

"But  if  you  can't?" 

*  Well,  sir,"  said  Hodge,  unable  to  follow  out  in  words  or 
ide?.s  what  he  meant,  "  if  I  can't  I'll  starve." 

"  Oh  !  nonsense,  you're  very  wrong.  Here  you  are,  the 
father  of  eleven  children,  in  the  position  in  which  God  has 
placed  you,  and  under  an  obligation  to  avail  yourself  of 
every  advantage  fo  Jiem.  If  your  resources  are  not  enough 
to  maintain  them,  you  must  get  help  from  the  parish,  that's 
quite  clear.  You  should  get  the  doctor  to  see  the  baby,  and 
no  doubt  he  will  order  it  proper  nourishment." 

"  Well,  sir,  I'd  rather  take  care  on  *em  and  do  for  'em  an* 
be  upsides  wi'  the  world  on  my  own  earnings." 

"Ay,  ay!  but  you  can't  you  know,  on  nine  shillings  a 
week." 

"  There,  sir,  you've  a  hit  on  it  straight  I  "  replied  Hodge, 
his  face  brightening  up  a  bit.  "  That's  just  what  I  do  say,  sir. 
J cajit  do  it  on  nine  shillin'  a  week  ;  but  if  so  be  I  were  to  get 
fair  wages,  I  might  do  it  without  comin'  on  the  parish.  The 
wages  be  too  small,  that's  it  eczacly,  sir  ! " 

The  Vicar  saw  that  he  had  incautiously  admitted  too 
much. 

"  Well,  but  nine  shillings  is  good  wages  hereabouts,  and  I 


/ 


44 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


suppose  Mr.  Jolly  gives  you  ale  and  wood,  and  all  that  sort  ^ 
of  thing.     You  can't  have   more   than  is  going,  my  man. 
Neither  you  nor  I  can  raise  wages  you  know  beyond  the 
market  price."  .    >■  V  i*-: 

"Sir,  I  don't  call  'em  wages  when  you  can't  live  on  *em  ; 
an'  I'm  here  starvin'  on  my  wages,  an'  I  do  say,  sir,  I'd 
ough  to  have  more." 

**  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Jolly?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I've  a  seed  him,  an'  he  do  say  as  he  can't  afford 
more,  an'  moreover  as  that  th'  other  farmers  wouldent  stand  ; 
no  rise  of  wages."         '  '         '  <  iu  r^^ 

"I  should  think  not,  Hodge,  with  the  Union  and  out-door  . 
relief  in  its  present  state.  You  must  learn  to  be  content, 
man,  and  don't  wish  or  ask  for  more  than  is  to  be  got.  If 
you  are  incapable  of  taking  care  of  all  your  children,  the  law 
entides  you  to  relief,  and  it  is  your  duty  to  take  it.  As  I 
said  just  now,"  added  the  Vicar,  rising,  **  Providence  has 
been  pleased  to  place  you  and  me  in  certain  positions.  I 
am  not  altogether  satisfied  with  mine,  you  are  not  satisfied 
with  yours.  But  don't  you  see,  it  is  our  duty  to  be  con- 
tented with  our  lot  and  accept  with  grateful  hearts  what  God 
sends  us.  My  good  man,"  said  the  parson,  kindly  and  ear- 
nestly, "  don't  let  a  spirit  of  discontent  get  possession  of  you. 
Talk  like  that  you  have  been  having  with  me  will  get  you  a 
bad  name,  and  may  lead  to  great  mischief  all  round  the  dis- 
trict." _^.^_^.__„_  .._„  :. 

"  So  it  will,  I'm  afear*d,  afore  long,  sir ! "  replied  Hodge. 
"  I  don't  mean  to  sit  Dy  an'  see  they  children  starve  without 
movin',  I  do  swear,  an'  there  be  more  on  'em  as  think  as  I 


.' 


# 


-mmf^^'"^^^'' 


THE    CHURCH    AND    SOCIAL    SCIENCE. 


45 


do  think ;  and  I'd  a  hoped,  sir,  as  how  you'd  a  helped  us 
wi'  the  farmers,  to  get  us  all  a  mite  more  than  we  do  get 
just  now." 

Mr.  Leicester  shook  his  head. 

"Ah  !  I  see,"  he  said,  "you  little  know  all  that  is  involved 
in  what  you  are  asking.  I'm  a  minister  of  the  Church. 
What  would  the  farmers  say  to  me  for  interfering  between 
them  and  their  laborers  ?  Go  home,  my  man,  and  think 
better  of  it.     I'll  send  Mr.  Linkboy  to  see  you  to-morrow." 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  turning  his  hat  round 
and  round  in  his  hand,  "but  if  that's  the  curate,  sir,  if  you 
please,  sir,  he  do  frighten  the  children  wi's  queer  looks  an' 
ways,  an'  my  little  Mary's  'most  afeared  ov  him.  He  can't 
do  no  good  to  us,  sir,  onless  he  can  bring  cow's  milk  an' 
news  o'  better  wages.  We  don't  none  ov  us  care  for  they 
papish  pranks,  sir.  Mo^t  any  one's  glad  to  seejou,  sir,  any 
tune.     Thankee  kindly.     Good-evenin',  sir." 

The  Vicar  smiled  to  himself  as  he  nodded  and  turned 
away.  The  idea  of  Mr.  Linkboy,  with  his  quaint  £  and 
quainter  manners,  among  Hodge's  alarmed  children  for  a 
while  excluded  the  graver  reminiscences  of  the  interview  ; 
but  when  these  returned  he  was  sincerely  uncomfortable  lest 
this  should  portend  the  beginning  of  trouble  in  the  parish. 
The  labor-market  everywhere  else  was  excited — would  the 
country  lie  listless  and  dead  to  the  crack  of  doom  ? 


%• 


46 


LITTLE     HODGE 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE   LAST   RESORT. 

From  the  vicarage  Hodge  wended  his  way  to  the  house 
of  his  friend  Timothy  NollekeriS,  the  ploughman  at  Farmer 
Truscott's.  Mr.  Truscott  held  Charnley  Farm  of  the 
Squire.  Half-way  down  a  hill,  towards  the  small  stream 
that,  winding  with  its  silver  thread  through  a  miniature  vale, 
divided  Farmer  Jolly's  land  from  Charnley,  was  a  row  of 
cottages  called  "  Truscott's  Cottages."  They  had  been 
built  for  Charnley  Farm,  under  the  tenure  of  Farmer  Trus- 
cott's grandfather.  The  present  tenant  of  Charnley  was, 
therefore,  a  farmer  by  inheritance,  and  had  you  seen  his 
farm  you  would  have  said  in  no  other  way.  Truscott 
just  managed  to  make  ends  meet ;  yet,  though  his  farm  had 
the  finest  land  on  the  estate,  and  could  have  been  made  to 
produce,  with  care,  cultivation,  and  capital,  twice  or  even 
three  times  its  present  income,  the  Squire,  from  mistaken 
motives  of  kindness  and  because  the  connection  of  the 
Truscotts  with  the  property  had  begun  under  his  grandfather, 
did  not  dis'.urb  his  tenant.  The  latter's  case  was  hopeless, 
as  the  Squire's  steward  well  knew,  and  the  man  could  not 
have  afforded  an  extra  hundred  a  year  for  any  purpose  what- 
ever. Landlords  and  laborers  and  money-lenders  have  to 
deal  with  thousands  of  such  men  squatting  upon  rich  English 
acres  even  in  this  day  of  scientific  agricultural  progress. 
The  laborer,  however,  loses  the  most  by  it.  The  other  two 
classes  are  willing  martyrs  if  they  suffer  at  all. 


THE     LAST    RESORT. 


47 


Timothy  Nollekens  lived  in  one  of  Truscott's  Cottages. 
An  undersized  man  rather  was  Tim  Nollekens,  with  legs 
having  a  tendency  to  the  bandy,  and  with  the  ornament  of  a 
meek  and  quiet  spirit ;  but  he  was  long-armed  and  capable, 
doing  on  occasion  a  day  of  fourteen  hours'  work  without 
gmmbling.  Mrs.  Nollekens  was  rather  the  reverse  of  her 
husband  in  every  particular.  She  was,  in  fact,  a  good  com- 
plement. Bigger  and  more  spirited  than  he,  she  used  before 
her  fifiii  child  was  born  to  take  her  share  at  the  work  in  the 
field.  From  that  time  she  contented  herself  with  the  toil  >  of 
home-management  and  the  cares  of  home-rule.  Of  nine 
children  she  had  lost  three  :  two  by  scarlet  fever,  and  one 
by  "  wasting"— that  is  to  say,  really  of  a  slow  fever,  gener- 
ated by  the  poisoned  air  of  her  house,  and  badly  treated  by 
the  parish  doctor.  God  places  invisible  walls  between  some 
people  aiid  disease.  It  was  a  marvel  how  the  other  chil- 
dren escaped  the  fatal  epidemic.  No  condition  which  an 
ingenious  devil  could  have  devised  for  the  purpose  was  want- 
ing in  their  case.  True,  they  were  kept  downstairs  in  the 
living  room  while  their  brother  and  sister  lay  abed  in  the  at- 
tic above ;  but  their  mother  went  up  and  down  the  stairs, 
and  tended  the  sick  and  dressed  the  healthy  with  the  same 
fingers  and  in  the  same  gown.  When  the  poor  little  bodies 
had  been  carried  away  to  be  buried,  the  only  disinfectant  re- 
sorted to  was  soap-and-water  with  judicious  moderation  :  the 
sheets  and  clothes  were  mixed  and  washed  with  the  family 
linen,  and  Mrs.  Nollekens  was  too  thrifty  to  throw  away  the 
shifts  the  children  died  in  when  she  had  so  many  left  whom 
they  would  fit.     The  Poor-law  medical  officer  of  those  days 


48 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


f 


was  content  to  physic  existing  patients,  and  did  not  trouble 
himself  much  about  preventive  medicine — it  was  not  his 
business. 

The  spring  from  which  the  Nollekens  family  and  the  other 
tenants  of  Truscott's  Cottages  drew  their  water-supply  was 
the  rill  at  the  bottom  of  the  slope,  where  it  ran  amidst  the 
crowding  watercresses,  fortunately  for  the  consumers,  if  mod- 
ern science  be  true,  since  upon  the  rise  above  it,  outside  the 
cottages,  were  cess-pits  dug  out  of  the  soil.  Mrs.  Nolle- 
kens's  ]Dig  lived  under  her  back  window,  whence  everything 
that  could  be  spared  could  conveniently  reach  him.  A 
member  of  Parliament  not  long  since  reflected  with  some  se- 
verity on  the  new-fangled  notion?  about  health  and  health- 
legislation,  instancing  the  numoer  of  hale  and  hearty  North- 
men who  lived  almost  over  their  middens  !  It  would  have 
done  him  good  to  put  his  nose  out  of  Mrs.  Nollekens' s  back 
window.  An  hour  or  two  of  pillory  in  that  position  would 
have  been  fatal  to  his  sanitary  scepticism,  if  not  to  his  life. 
However,  we  cannot  blame  Nollekens  and  his  wife  for  think- 
ing the  smell  "healthy"  when  a  legislature  agrees  with  them. 

Mrs.  Nollekens  had  not  been  an  unsympathizing  spectator 
of  Hodge's  sorrows.  She  had  gone  of  a  Sunday  to  drop  a 
tear  on  the  grave  of  his  wife,  and  had  constantly  looked  in 
to  give  Mary  a  helping  hand,  or  had  permitted  the  latter  to 
bring  her  charge  to  the  cottage  and  sit  in  the  chimney  cor- 
ner for  an  hour  or  two.  But  then  the  other  nine  young 
Hodges  were  necessarily  left  in  the  wilderness,  whence  Mary 
found  that  these  absences  were  likely  to  be  paid  for  by  dear 
damages  or  disastrous  conflicts  at  home.     Mrs.  Nollekens, 


THE     LAST    RESORT. 


49 


on  the  other  hand,  could  not  spare  much  time  at  Hodge's, 
so  that  all  the  help  she  could  give  her  neighbor  was  not  very 
material.  It  showed  sympathy,  though,  and  the  widower 
thought  much  of  it.  He  had  talked  over  his  case  with  Tim 
and  his  wife,  or  rather  with  Tim  through  his  wife,  and  ap- 
prised them  of  h  intention  to  make  a  demand  on  his  master 
for  higher  wages,     Mrs.  NoUekcns  had  then  said  : 

"La,  there  now!  *t  hain't  of  no  use.  Do  ee  spose  Far- 
mer Jolly  '11  give  ee  more'n  the  rest  of  *em?  Or  do  ee 
spose  the  rest  '11  let  ee  take  more'n  they  get  ?  If  he  do 
give't  ee  he  must  give't  to  my  old  man  too.  An'  there's 
Jack  Horner,  he've  a  ben  a  talkin'  o'  flittin',  'cause  wages  be 
so  low  an'  work  so  skeerse.  But,  bless  yer  heart,  the  far- 
mers they  don't  care  a  straw.  I  do  count  you're  all  a-cuttin' 
one  another's  throats,  there's  so  many  of  ye  in  these  here 
parts." 

Vlts.  NoUekens  mig/i/  have  thought  of  the  nine  children 
she  had  borne  ! 

Nollekens  agreed  to  this  by  sagaciously  nodding  his  head 
and  saying —         i       ,     ♦ 

"Th'  old  woman's  right,  John."  i  ' 

We  have  seen  that  she  7ms  right.  John  Hodge,  however, 
was  under  a  pressure  that  did  not  affect  them,  and  that 
pressure  was  forcing  him  to  solve  the  problem  they  were  not 
disposed  to  entertain.  This  man  was  a  step  beyond  them 
in  the  Slough  of  Despond.  He  and  his  children  were  pa- 
tiently starving.  When  men  reach  that  point  they  must 
cither  do  or  die. 

Hodge,  then,  was  making  his  way  to  Truscott's  Cottages, 


50 


LITTLE     HODGE 


to  relate  to  Tim  Nollekens  the  results  of  his  interviews,  and 
meeting  Jack  Horner,  he  invited  that  worthy  to  accompany 
him. 

"There  naw,  John !  didn't  I  tell  ee?"  said  Mrs.  Nolle- 
kens, combing  the  tangled  hair  of  her  youngest-born  with  un- 
comfortable vigor — "drat  ee,  hold  still  I  tell  ee — Varmcr 
Jolly  bain't  a  fool.  Sposin'  he  were  to  listen  to  ee,  John, 
wouldn't  the  whole  lot  on  us  be  down  on  him  ?  Wouldn't 
the  rest  on  'em  rate  him  for  a  noggerhead  to  go  and  rise  the 
wages  on  *em?" 

"Stay  thee  there  a  minnit,  Sally  Nollekens,"  said 
Hodge,  catching  a  suggestion  from  her  words.  "  What  do 
ee  say  to  this  ?  Sposin'  the  whole  of  us  were  to  agree  not 
to  do  no  work  for  none  of  the  farmers  athout  they  rise  the 
wages  two  shillin'  a  week  ?  " 

"  Sposin'  thee  cuts  thy  throat ! "  contemptuously  inter- 
posed Mrs.  Nollekens.  She  little  knew  what  she  was  say- 
ing, •  '         ^       ■ 

Indeed  Hodge's  proposal  was  so  novel  and  daring  that  it 
took  the  hearers'  breath  away ;  and  as  it  was  the  first  time 
he  had  put  it  in  words,  it  nearly  took  away  the  breatii  of  the 
speaker  himself.  Mrs.  Nollekens  as  usual  would,  to  a  su- 
perficial observer,  have  appeared  to  be  the  first  to  recover 
herself:      ^   .  ^■- :■■■  -  ^■;4-.,.--- :;.:;^' ,  -   ::r;,  ,, .    v. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  confidently,  as  with  a  mighty  tug  not  si- 
lently endured  she  brought  away  the  last  bothersome  knot 
from  Peter's  head,  "  sommat's  a  come  over  ee,  John,  since 
thy  wife  a-died." 

"Sally  Nollekens,  I'm  a  starvcn;  I  hain't  had  a  fitly  meal 


THE     LAST    RESORT. 


SI 


afore  to-night  for  more'n  a  week.  My  little  Ben,  they  went 
an'  called  un,  be  a  sickenin.  though  I  gets  un  all  the  milk  I 
can,  an  ee  knows  very  well  they  won't  none  ov  em  sell  none 
to  ce  so  long  as  there  be  pigs  to  drink  it.  Mar/s  a  wor- 
ryin  to  death.  The  rest  ain't  half  fed.  It's  only  a  bit  an  a 
drop  all  round  for  them :  their  clothes  is  a  wearin  out  a 
sight  to  see,  an'  they  be  a-growin  like  little  beastesses  'thout 
a  mother  to  manage  'em.  If  so  be  a  woman  could  be  got 
to  look  after  'cm,  'taint  possible  fur  I  to  pay  for  her." 

"Ha!"  said  Sally,  sympathetically,  Peter's  capillary  em- 
barrassments being  now  completely  solved,  "  if  ee  wer  on'y 
like  some  o'  the  folk,  ce'd  get  along  bravely.  Look  at  Absa- 
lom Hitchcock ;  he's  tha  laziest  beggar  i'  the  parish,  but  he 
knows  the  way  to  cheat  the  Guardians.  Ee've  alius  got  a 
child  or  so  sick  abed — they  takes  it  by  turns,  I  spose — an'  the 
doctor  gives  him  an  order  for  loaves  or  soup — a  tidy  lot  ov 
em  every  week.  You  may  get  along  pcrwided  yo've  on'y 
enough  cheek  and  childern." 

"I  won't  do  it!"  said  Hodge,  decidedly.  "I  say  som- 
mat  must  be  done.  If  ee  were  in  my  place,  Sally  Nolle- 
kens,  ee'd  say  so  too.  Why,  sposin  ee  were  to  die  to-mor- 
row? "    '■■  '^■'■^'  "    " •       '  •'■'''■''' 

"Please  God,  I  won't!"  said  Mrs.  Nollekens. 

"  Please  God,  her  shant ! "  said  Tim  Nollekens. 

"But  5posin',  I  say,  her  were  to  die  to-morrow,  how 
would  Tim  manage  witii  all  they  young  childern  ?  'Tain't  in 
nater  to  bear  it,  an'  we'd  be  a  pack  o'  fools  to  stand  it  any 
longer.  Let's  all  club  together  an'  go  in  for  a  rise  o'  wa- 
ges!" 


rw 


52 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


Hodge's  desperation  was  driving  him  very  near  the  Rubi- 
con. The  appeal  he  had  made  to  the  good  wife's  own  un- 
certainty of  hfe  rather  went  home  to  her,  spite  of  her  dis- 
claimer. She  thought  there  was  no  greater  born  fool  in  the 
general  handling  and  management  of  children  than  Tim 
Nollekens.  He  was  always  letting  the  babies  fall  on  the 
stone  flags,  or  on  just  provocation  would  send  the  bigger 
ones  to  earth  in  a  manner  belying  his  general  meekness. 
They  often  suffered  vicariously  the  effects  of  a  resentment 
he  would,  if  he  had  dared,  have  vented  on  their  mother. 
The  idea  of  leaving  Aim  in  Hodge's  position  carried  to  Mrs. 
Nollekens's  Inind  such  a  painful  picture  of  domestic  helpless- 
ness and  absurdity,  as  awakened  her  to  a  sense  of  the  posi- 
tion in  which  they  lived  and  moved.  They  were  simply 
skirting  a  border-land  of  starvation.  Nay,  was  not  one  foot 
over  the  border  ? 

Jack  Horner  had  been  for  some  time  excogitating  the 
wages  problem.  He  was  a  married  man  wi':hoat  children,  a 
luxury  rare  with  the  poor,  if  it  be  a  grief  common  among  the 
rich.  His  notion  was  to  emigrate — a  notion  initiated  in  his 
mind  by  some  of  the  navvies  on  the  railway  that  had  been 
built  through  tliat  part  of  the  country.  It  has  been  little 
considered  how  much  these  lines  of  road  have  carried  into 
the  still,  secluded  counties  of  England,  along  with  the  v'>ar 
and  bustle  of  the  traffic  they  have  opened  up.  The  hardy 
men  who  built  them,  many  of  them  travelled  from  county  to 
county,  many  from  work  under  foreign  contracts,  have  borne 
with  them  to  the  vacant  rustics,  in  a^  ^-house  or  roadside 
gossip,  not  a  few  novel  ideas,  stirring  up  their  sluggish  minds 


~-fi^^  -t*  t^  '■•'"'*    % 


THE     LAST    RESORT. 


53 


4 


to  fresh  views  of  rights  and  duties,  of  relations  and  oppor- 
tunities. Everywhere,  too,  they  have  picked  up  and  with- 
drawn from  agricultural  life  some  of  the  best  of  the  laborers, 
converting  them  into  new  men,  more  energetic,  enterprising, 
and,  to  tell  the  truth,  unsettled.  This  alone  might  be 
enough  to  account  for  the  spread  of  ideas  and  the  uneasi- 
ness that  now  stir  the  agricultural  laboring  class  to  its  very 
depths.  These  long  iron  lines  have  cut  into  the  inert  mass 
of  rural  society,  and  have  made  it  impossible  it  should  ever 
be  the  same  concrete  unity  again. 

When  Hodge  came  out  with  the  desperate  proposal  above 
reported,  Jack  Horner  clapped  him  on  the  back. 

"  Hooray,  John  !  that  there's  the  way  to  talk  !  I  tell  'ee, 
Sally  NoUekens,  he've  a  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head. 
Union  is  strengthy  that's  the  motter  of  our  burrying  club, 
and  I  say  if  you  unites  for  burryin'  unite  for  living  as  well." 

But  Nollekens  nodded  his  sagacious  head  again. 

"  Don't  ee  go  to  do  it,"  said  he.  "  You'll  upset  the  coun- 
try wi'  yer  new-fangled  noshuns,  an'll  rise  a  drefful  spirit 
among  the  farmers.  Naw  I  naw  !  be  content,  I  say,  Here 
have  I  worked  these  forty  year  for  seven  and  eight  and  nine 
shillin'  a  week,  I  and  my  fayther  afore  me  on  the  same  farm, 
and  though  I  do  say  as  us  haven't  had  as  much  as  us  might 
a  had  we  ain't  starved  yet.  Sometimes  I've  a  had  a  belly- 
full,  sometimes  I  haven't,  but  I've  alius  lived  through  it. 
Do  you  leave  things  alone,  man,  and  you'll  pull  through. 
We've  alius  a  pulled  through,  and  you'll  pull  through  too. 

"Will  ee  shut  up  1"  said  Mrs.  Nollekens,  who  began  to 
discern  some  method  in  Hodge's  madness.     "Thee'd  a  set 


54 


LITTLE     HODGE 


there  a  hundred  year,  an'  watched  I  a  starving  ef  Fd  a  let 
V<?/  Thee  hasn't  no  more  spirit  than  a  rabbit.  If  so  be  as 
wages  is  to  be  made  to  rise  by  union,  take  up  with  the  union 
hke  a  man,  and  stand  up  for  your  rights  along  with  all  yer 
neighbors.  If  on'y  I  was  a  man  I'd  show  ee  the  way ! " 
And  the  matron  flourished  an  arm  of  Amazonian  mould. 

Jack  Horner  was  not  much  of  a  talker,  but  he  here  put  in 
with  a  practical  suggestion.  There  was,  he  thought,  nine- 
score-and-a-half  of  laborers  in  their  small  pr.rish  of  Hankerley. 
Let  them  try  and  form  these  into  a  Union  like  those  of  the 
mechanics  in  towns,  and  let  them  send  to  Sammy  Stedman, 
the  Primitive  Methodist  local  preacher  over  at  Yokelbury, 
to  advise  them  how  to  go  about  doing  it.  This  was  no 
sooner  bruited  than  it  was  declared  by  all  parties  to  be  exactly 
what  they  would  have  thought  of  it  if  it  had  been  put  to 
them.  They  forthwith  resolved  to  act  upon  it.  So  Hodge 
and  his  friends  had  been  driven  from  State,  Capital,  and 
Church  to  the  dubious  powers  of  Combination  and  Dissent. 

* 


CHAPTER    V. 


SAMMY   STEDMAN. 


Sammy  Stedman,  to  whom  our  small  conspirators  now 
referred,  lived  at  Yokelbury,  in  the  next  union,  in  a  small 
cottage  owned  by  himself,  to  which  was  attached  a  piece  of 
land.  This  he  held  in  fee,  an  ownership  that  had  no  small 
influence  in  making  him  what  he  was.  Stedman' s  grand- 
father, being  of  thrifty  ways,  had  saved  a  little  money,  where- 


SAMMY    S  T  E  D  M  A  N 


55 


with  he  bought  a  cottage  on  the  edge  of  Yokelbury  Com- 
mon. To  this,  by  gradual  encroachments,  unregarded  in 
those  da3's,  he  had  succeeded  in  adding  three-quarters  of  an 
acre  of  land.  If  the  neighboring  landowners  and  farmers 
had  known  how  independent  a  stock  would  be  bred  and 
maintained  from  this  little  e;  tate,  and  the  trouble  to  come 
out  of  it  for  their  heirs,  successors,  and  assigns,  they  would, 
I  think,  have  abolished  it  at  all  hazards.  Sammy  Stedman's 
boyhood  was  warped  to  sonic  extent  by  the  knowledge  that 
he  was  going  to  succeed  to  this  small  property,  not  worth 
;;^io  a  year.  He  took  airs  upon  himself  which  made  him  a- 
zany  among  village  fools.  But  the  Methodists  in  overrun- 
ning the  country  had  reached  Yokelbury,  where  they  estab- 
lished a  meeting-house,  and  where  one  evening  they  so  bat- 
tered and  assaulted  Sammy's  conscience  that  he  straightway 
yielded  to  them,  or  the  Power  they  represented,  and  became 
a  "Mcthody  " — nay,  not  only  became  a  "  Methody  "  but  an 
enthusiast ;  and,  moreover,  feeling  some  powers  aroused 
within  him  by  the  tremendous  shaking  of  mind  he  had  expe- 
rienced, he  took  to  reading  whatever  he  could  lay  hands  on. 
Gradually  he  developed  a  capable  and  practical  mind.  He 
went  beyond  the  field  of  religion  to  other  things,  among  them 
Politics.  Newspapers  became  his  craze.  He  cheated  him- 
self of  many  a  meal  to  buy  them,  and  pored  over  them  till 
he  knew  by  heart  their  facts  and  reasonings.  He  became  a 
local  preacher.  Sober  and  honest  as  the  day,  he  was  ad- 
mitted on  all  sides  to  be  a  good  workman,  though  his  prose- 
lytizing activities  made  him  an  object  of  suspicion  to  not  a 
few  of  his  companions  and  employers.     It  is  melancholy  to 


56 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


*! 


be  obliged  to  record  that  Sammy  Stedman's  case  is  a  clear 
argument  in  favor  of  withholding  the  Bible  from  the  laity. 
His  study  of  it,  which  was  earnest  and  deep,  led  him  to  draw 
conclusions  the  reverse  of  the  State-in-which-it-has-pleased- 
Providence-to-place-you  theory.  Stedman  as  he  grew  more 
capable  was  far  from  willing  to  be  content  with  the  position 
in  which  he  found  himself  placed.  On  the  contrary  he  felt 
that  he  was  worthy  of  better  things,  and  he  determined  to 
have  them.  Accordingly,  being  a  methodical  man,  he  argued 
with  his  master  from  the  Bible,  from  Natural  Justice,  and 
from  the  Newspapers  that  as  he  was  worth  more  than  eight 
shillings  a  week  he  ought  to  earn  it.  The  farmer,  astounded 
at  this  xlisplay  of  perilous  erudition  from  a  lad  of  twenty-two, 
"  d — d  him  for  his  impudence  " — one  must  grant,  the  only 
alternative  to  granting  his  request.  Sammy  Stedman  there- 
upon shouldered  a  bund)e  and  made  off  to  a  nortliern  county, 
where,  as  the  newspapers  had  told  him,  wages  were  higher. 
His  wife  remained  at  home,  taking  charge  of  the  cottage  and 
children;  and  )  for  many  years  Stedman  came  and  went, 
trudging  to  various  parts  of  England,  and  picking  up  knowl- 
edge as  a  bird  does  crumbs.  At  home  he  was  altogether  as 
objectionable  a  gift  of  Providence  to  his  parson's  day  and 
farmer's  generation  as  ever  tried  the  faith  of  old-fashioned 
conservative  Christianity.  But  as  Stedman  grew  more  ma- 
ture, and  by  saving  and  hard  work  established  a  position  of 
independence  and  a  reputation  for  thorough  knowledge  of 
his  calling,  he  was  able  in  his  own  neighborhood  to  command 
nearly  double  wages,  and  had  thus  acquired  a  considerable 
reputation.     Farmers  and  laborers  equally  consulted  him  in 


^ 


SAMMY    S TED MAN. 


57 


their  difficulties,  and  respected  the  honesty  and  candor  which 
always  marked  his  advice.  He  acted  discreetly,  but  his 
mind  was  always  at  work  on  the  problems  affecting  his  class, 
and  on  these  he  was  constantly  urging  upon  his  fellow-labor- 
ers the  conclusions  to  which  he  had  come.  Hence  it  was 
very  natural  that  men  on  such  serious  business  as  was  con- 
templated by  Hodge  and  Horner  should  think  of  Sammy 
Stedman. 

The  gossip  in  Hankerley  about  this  bold  proposal  soon 
went  from  house  to  house  in  the  outskirts  of  the  village, 
where  many  of  the  laborers  dwelt,  and  from  one  farm  to 
another.     The  rumor  was  that  several  men  at  Charnley  had 
formed  a  Union.     The  niral  clods  were  therefore  in  a  state  of 
effervescence.     What  this  Union  might  be,  what  it  imported, 
what  it  involved  on  the  part  of  its  members,  what  it  would 
do  and  what  it  would  not,  were  questions  eagerly  but  foggily 
discussed  at   the  lounging  corner  of  the  Madcap  Inn  in 
Hankerley,  and  in   many  a  field  through  the  cool  spring- 
summer  days.     Then  word  was  sent  round  that  there  was  to 
be  a  meeting  at  the  Madcap,  and  thither  one  Wednesday 
evening,  from  all  parts  of  the  district,  began  to  collect  a 
crowd  that  astonished  the  simple  promoters.     The  Madcap 
overflowed ;  not  much  to  its  benefit,  however,  for  the  men 
seemed  too  serious  and  "  queer "  to  drink.     Jack  Horner 
was  there,  and  Hodge,  and  Joe  Wellsby,  who  had  been  a 
town-unionist  in  his  day,  and  Tim  NoUekens,  who  evinced  a 
disposition  to  skulk,  but  was  brought  up  in  charge  of  his 
wife.     Many  women   also  were  there  in  their  quaint  sun- 
bonnets  and  short  petticoats,  their  bare  arms  wrapped  up  in 


58 


LITTLK     IlODCJi:. 


their  aprons,  and  they  all  talked  in  undertones  befitting  the 
gravity  of  the  occasioi\.  Sammy  Stedman  came  over  early 
and  with  a  few  favored  ones  sat  talking  in  the  inn  parlor, 
every  available  spot  being  occupied  with  the  cars  of  eager 
listeners.  As  the  meeting  numbered  several  hundreds,  it 
was  plain  it  could  not  be  held  inside,  and  when  Sammy 
Stedman  had  ascertained  the  rather  crude  views  of  his 
inviters,  he  went  without,  where,  raised  on  a  bench  on  the 
green  opposite  the  inn,  he  took  off  his  hat,  and  stood  look- 
ing down  ui)on  as  fresh  a  sight  as  ever  gladdened  a  man's 
eyes  in  merry  England. 

Men,  old  and  young,  sturdy  and  weak,  straight  and  bent, 
some  with  healthy  bloom  upon  their  faces,  some  with  worn 
and  weazened  ar/i  weary  countenances ;  women  here  and 
there,  browned  and  comely,  but  mostly  marked  by  care  and 
labor ;  and  all  these  gathered  together  after  years  of  dumb 
acquiescence  in  the  intolerable,  of  ignorant  inanity  of  being, 
to  try  to  begin  a  life  of  fresh  thought  and  action.  Somehow 
or  other  a  shade  of  sadness  and  dispirit  played  over  the  up- 
turned ranks  of  faces,  as  if  some  disastrous  angel  had  just 
swept  his  gloomy  wing  across  them  all.  There  was  not  a 
smile  to  be  seen. 

Sr>mmy  Stedman's  face,  too,  was  a  dead  sea  when  first  he 
raised  his  arm  for  quiet,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  were  going 
to  commence  a  sermon ;  but  in  an  instant  his  countenance 
h'ghted  up  as  he  opened  his  h'p^  and  the  people  pressed 
together  to  catch  the  first  sounds.  Sammy  was  a  born 
orator.     He  began,  in  quiet,  clear,  decided  tones — 

''  Brothers,  we've  come  together  here  for  a  serious  pur-i- 


SAMMY    STEDMAN. 


59 


l)ose,  and,  considering  wiiat  that  purpose  is,  I  am  glad  to 
see  so  many  of  you  here.  I  have  waited  for  this  day  all  my 
life.  I  have  looked  forward  to  it  eagerly,  but  often  with 
despair.  For  I  thought  tiic  agricultural  working-man  was 
the  most  degraded  of  all  beings  wilh  which  I  was  acquainted. 
(  Year,  year  /)  To-day  we  arc  all  met  here  to  consider  our 
condition,  and  if  so  be  we  find  our  condition  is  not  what  it 
should  be,  we  are  to  devise  measures,  if  we  can,  to  c  i>;ve 
ourselves  from  that  condition.  Is  that  it?  {Ees  .i3.x/ 
Theeritbc!) 

*'  Now,  brothers,  we've  got  first  to  consider  what  'tis  you 
want,  and,  secondly^  how  to  set  about  getting  it.  {Ah  I) 
Firsty'  said  Sammy,  dropping  insensibly  into  his  preaching 
manner,  and  raising  his  arm  with  one  finger  extended,  to 
bring  it  down  on  his  left  hand,  ^^what  is  it  you  want?  I'm 
rejoiced  at  last  to  see  you  all  roused  up  to  know  that  you 
want  anything.  That's  the  first  step  in  improvement.  You 
nmst  find  out  your  case  is  a  bad  un  before  you'll  set  to  work 
to  better  it ;  just  as  in  religion  we  have  to  begin  wilh  repent- 
ance from  dead  works.  You  show  me  a  man  that's  content- 
ed with  what  he  is,  and  I'll  show  you  a  coward  or  a  fool. 
There's  two  sorts  of  contentment :  contentment  with  the 
will  of  God  and  whatever  that  brings  you,  which  don't  in 
any  way  mean  sitting  down  and  thinking  He  don't  mean  to 
give  you  anything  better  if  you'll  try  for  it  ;  and  then  there's 
contentment  that  sits  down  idly  and  wickedly,  and  lets 
things  go  on  as  they  please  without  an  effort  to  make  them 
better.  That's  the  sort  of  contentment  that  ends  in  the 
poor-house." 


6o 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


"  Hear,  hear  !  "  shrieked  Mrs.  Nollekens,  in  a  voice  that 
thrilled  the  whole  audience  and  woke  them  up  to  a  general 
laugh,  as  she  dug  her  angular  elbow  into  the  side  of  Tim 
Nollekens.  ■:  .  ■      w 

"  Well  now,  your  friends  here,  the  committee — {Oh, 
they've  formed  a  committee  then  I  Hear,  hear  /) — tell  me 
they've  ascertained  that  you  aren't  satisfied  with  your  wages 
— [cheers) — nor  your  way  of  livin',  nor  your  children's  pres- 
ent condition  and  future  prospects.  (Mrs.  Nollekens's  ap- 
probation was  vociferous.)  And  among  you  there's  John 
Hodge,  whose  situation  is  a  reducshun  at  absurdity — that  is, 
he's  reduced  to  a  laughing-stock,  because  he's  like  a  male 
pig  left  with  eleven  young  uns  to  feed  and  no  means  of 
feedin'  them."     .  • 

This  coarse  joke  was  only  too  truly  rural  not  to  be  re- 
ceived with  shouts  of  laughter,  Hodge  himself  joining  in  with 
no  small  gusto. 

"Well,  here's  three  things  you've  found  out,  as  I  found 
them  out  long  ago,  and  there's  many  more  I  could  mention  to 
you.  There's  your  position.  You  have  no  political  rights, 
no  representation  in  Parliament.  You  haven't  any  knowl- 
edge of  the  great  questions  arising  to  atTect  your  welfare,  and 
if  you  had,  'twould  only  embitter  your  lot,  because  you  could 
do  nothing  to  '^medy  it.  You're  bound  hand  and  foot  to 
the  farmer,  and  he's  bound  to  his  landlord,  and  so  we  have 
in  what's  called  'free  and  merry  England'  this  day  two  bands 
of  slaves,  handcutfed,  as  it  were,  one  to  the  other.  Well,  if 
the  better  band  of  slaves — that's  the  farmers — is  contented 
and  won't  wake  up  and  do  something  to  shake  theirselves 


SAMMY    STEDMAN. 


6i 


free,  then  the  worser  band,  the  laborers,  must  rise  and  do 
it."  ;•,-■-_..  .r  _^.:    .,_,y:.,. 

Sammy  Stedman's  oratory  went  a  little  over  the  heads  of 
the  folk  in  this  passage,  but  what  with  his  clear,  ringing  voice 
and  kindling  manner  they  seemed  to  take  it  all  in,  and  it 
woiked  like  yeast  in  the  unleavened  minds  of  the  listeners. 
They  cheered  to  the  echo.  Meanwhile  the  noise  had  at- 
tracted several  farmers  to  the  spot,  and  the  Curate's  mush- 
room hat  flapped  gloomily  in  the  background. 

"Then,"  he  said,  " there's  questions  a  rising  between  us 
and  the  parson.  I've  got  nothing  to  say  personally  against 
any  of  the  clergy  in  this  neighborhood.  They  takes  their 
pay  and  says  their  prayers,  and  manages  their  parishes  as 
well  as  any  folk  could  do — {Eight  huuderd a  year  !  Ay,  mi 
a  parsonage  1) — but  I  do  say  this  of  the  parsons  as  a  body, 
and  if  there  is  one  here,"  said  Sammy,  looking  straight  at 
the  Curate's  felt  hat,  "  I  hope  he  won't  be  offended — I  say 
they  ought  long  ago  to  have  taken  notice  of  the  terrible  state 
of  things  around  them,  and  have  boldly  preached  their  duty 
to  the  farmers.  They've  been  preaching  to  us  to  be  con- 
tented with  Providence — why  didn't  they  preach  to  them^  as 
their  Master  did,  about  the  duty  of  the  rich  ?  There's  a 
text  for  them  in  one  of  the  epistles,  and  perhaps  the  rever- 
end gentleman  I  see  listening  to  me  will  take  a  note  of  it 
and  preach  a  sermon  from  it  some  day  :  '  Go  to,  tww,  ye  rieh 
tnen.  Behold,  the  hire  of  the  laborers  who  have  reaped 
down  your  fields,  whieh  is  of  you  kept  back  by  fraud,  erieth, 
and  the  cries  of  them  which  have  reaped  are  entered  into  the 
ears  of  the  Lord  God  of  Sabaoth' " 


62 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


This  passage,  delivered  widi  all  his  force,  made  a  deep 
impression  upon  the  people.  One  or  two  of  the  farmers 
hissed,  and  in  a  moment  the  fierce  spirit  that  underlies  the  ; 
character  of  the  patient  hind  broke  out  with  threatening 
fury.  A  Babel  of  cries  arose,  above  which  Mrs.  NoUekens's 
voice  ruled  pre-eminent,  and  the  crowd  turned  round  upon 
the  intruders.  At  this  moment  the  great  mushroom  hat  was 
pushed  in  between  the  laborers  and  the  small  knot  of  farm- 
ers. ' "  ■  '■•     ■     - 

"  Gentlemen,"  shouted  the  Curate  to  the  latter,  taking  off 
the  hat  and  waving  it  frantically,  "for  God's  sake  don't  ex- 
cite the  people  by  useless  insult.  They  maybe  right  or  they 
may  be  wrong,  but  they  are  entitled  to  hold  their  meeting 
and  say  what  they  please,  and  I  beseech  you  not  to  provoke 
them  to  violence." 

Hodge,  Horner,  and  Nollekens  had  rushed  to  the  front, 
where  still  better  men  were  ready  to  vindicate  the  right  of 
public  meeting,  and  their  eyes  met  those  of  Jolly  and  Trus- 
cott  in  an  angry  encounter  not  to  be  forgotten.  The  farm- 
ers affected  contempt. 

"Oh,  go  on,"  said  Jolly,  "we'll  not  interrupt  ee.  This 
ain't  the  place  to  discuss  the  question." 

The  Curate's  hat  went  on,  but  he  still  stood  between  the 
parties,  while  every  one,  trembling  now  with  excitement, 
turned  again  to  the  speaker. 

"  Well,  the  priests,  who  have  been  the  witnesses  of  your 
misery  and  need,  have  not  helped  you,  and  the  masters 
won't  help  you — {/fear,  hear!  said  Hodge) — and  the  Parish 
won't  help  you,  leastways  those  of  you  that  are  honest,  and 


SAMMY    STEDMAN. 


^^ 


the  landlords  won't  help  you,  and  even  God  won't  help  you 
unless  you  help  yourselves ;  so  you  must  resolve  this  day  to 
take  your  stand  for  what  you  mean  to  do.  Quit  yourselves 
like  fiteu,  be  strong.  I  tell  you  frankly  this  is  no  light  or 
easy  matter.  You  may  have  to  suffer  a  good  deal.  It  will 
be  a  hard  fight,  but  it  will  be  a  glorious  victory.  Now,  if 
we  are  to  combine  to  better  our  condition,  what  are  we  to 
ask  for?"     .  :   v,    -, 

"  More  wages,"  grunted  a  lazy  fellow  in  the  bvickground, 
whose  pockets  nursed  his  hands  far  more  than  was  required 
by  the  work  they  did.  - 

"  Better  houses,"  said  a  shrill  voice  not  very  far  from  the 
speaker.  It  was  that  of  Sally  Nollekens.  "  Decent  houses 
an'  a  garden,  master,  an'  twenty  shillin'  a  wik,  I  say." 

The  crowd  was  easily  amused.  It  laughed  consumedly 
at  the  good  wife's  proposal.  The  rustic  simplicity,  so  fas- 
cinating to  amiable  sentimentalists  and  poets,  so  advanta- 
geous to  employers,  came  out  conspicuously  when  practical 
Sammy  Stedman  asked  them  to  formulate  their  demands. 
They  could  not  do  it.  Th(?y  had  only  dipped  their  feet  in 
the  edge  of  the  water,  and  were  not  ready  for  a  plunge. 
They  scarcely  knew  as  yet  whether  to  be  in  earnest  or  not, 
though  they  meant  to  be  terribly  in  earnest.  They  only  felt 
their  state  to  be  intolerable,  and,  in  fact,  I  rather  think, 
shrank  from  the  responsibility  of  suggesting  their  own 
remedy.  This  shyness,  the  result  of  ignorance  and  long 
repression,  was  afterwards  used  against  them  by  their  op- 
ponents. They  set  down  the  whole  movement  to  "  agitators." 
So  long  had  they  been  under  authority,  coming  and  going. 


1 


64 


I.  ITTLF     HODGE. 


doing  or  refraining,  at  the  behest  of  those  with  whom  their 
relations  were  in  general  kindly,  that  they  would  thank  any 
one,  any  Deus  ex  machind,  who  would  come  to  them  and 
declare  what  were  honest  requirements  and  how  to  get 
them.  Sammy  Stedman  was  the  convenient  divinity  of  the 
moment.     He  pulled  up  Sally  NoUekens. 

"  No,  Mrs.  NoUekens,  'twon't  do  to  talk  too  large  at  first. 
There  ain't  many  farmers,  farming  as  they  do,  as  can  afford 
twenty  shillings  a  week,  and  there  ain't  many  men,  as  prices 
go,  worth  twenty  shillings.  I  don't  go  for  all  getting  the 
same  price.  We  must  help  all  up  to  a  certain  point,  and 
then  above  that  it's  the  most  to  the  best.  Now,  let's  see. 
You're  most  of  you  getting  9s.  and  los.  a  week  and  your 
beer,  I  s'pose,  which  they  reckon  at  ^\  13s.  6d.  a  year, 
and  what  they  call  *  perquisites '  and  Christmas  gifts.  Put- 
ting all  these  together  and  considering  the  beer  goes  into 
your  stomachs,  can  you  live  fit  to  work  and  keep  your 
families  decent  and  comfortable  on  what  you  get  ?  " 

"Naw  ! "  came  in  a  tremendous  chorus  from  the  audience. 

"  Then  the  least  you  can  any  of  you  ask  is  what' 11  do 
that.  You  are  part  of  the  farmer's  machinery,  and  you  re- 
quire to  keep  up  steam  or  you'll  run  down,  and  you  can't 
work  unless  you  have  enough  to  keep  the  fire  going,  and 
the  water  boiling,  and  the  machinery  oiled.  That's  the  first 
point — what  they  call  a  ininimtim.  When  you've  got  that 
how  much  more  are  you  entitled  to?" 

"Share  o'  profits,"  said  two  or  three  together,  who  had 
followed  his  argument  and  [jerceived  its  drift. 

"Yes.     Some  share  big  or  little  of  the  profits.     I  say 


SAMMY    STEDJVIAN. 


65 


you  put  your  labor  into  the  venture  just  as  your  master  puts 
his  money  into  his  land  and  his  skill  into  his  venture,  and  so 
all  that  are  in  the  venture  should  have  a  share  in  the  profits 
resulting  from  it." 

O  Sammy  Stedman,  Sammy  Stedman,  here  are  you  trip- 
ping sadly  !  The  selling  price  of  a  man's  labor  theoretically 
includes  not  only  what  is  to  keep  the  machinery  in  order, 
but  the  profits  to  him,  whatever  they  n^ay  be,  over  and 
above  the  wages  which  the  condition  of  the  labor-market 
enables  him  to  earn.  If  that  be  so  he  must  get  his  profits 
out  of  his  wages,  and  .  no  more  entitled  to  a  share  of  the 
capitalist's  profits  than  -to  a  room  in  the  capitalist's  house. 
Is  my  green-grocer  to  turn  upon  me  at  Christmas  for  profits 
on  everything  he  has  sold  me,  on  the  ground  that  he  has  all 
the  year  been  selling  to  me  at  a  loss  ?  The  selling  price  of 
a  cabbage  includes  the  return  for  cost  of  producfion  and  the 
profit.  This  latter  proportion  truly  is  very  variable  and 
very  doubtful  in  its  collection,  but,  nevertheless,  normally 
and  theoretically  it  forms  some  proportion  of  all  wages  and 
all  prices.  * 

Sammy  Stedman's  fallacy  was  a  common  one.  It  was, 
however,  the  shadow  or  substitute  for  the  truth.  There  is  a 
mediocre  Siandard  of  labor  which  must  be  governed  by  the 
rule  above  stated ;  but  undoubtedly  there  is  also  a  sort  and 
style  of  work  that  involves  something  more  than  that.  Put 
a  man  on  his  mettle.  Show  him  that  he  can  do  something 
above  a  low  average,  can  double  production  or  improve 
quality,  and  he  does  it  for  you.  Is  he  then  entitled  to  no 
share  of  the  profits?     For  in  this  case  he  brings  into  the 


06 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


combination  to  produce  results  an  extra  element,  the  only 
one  capable  of  expansion  and  intension,  the  capital  and 
ordinary  labor  being  the  fixed  quantities,  but  this  being  an 
elastic  factor.  Whether  or  no  he  be  held  entitled  to  a  share 
of  the  profits,  surely  in  that  case  it  would  be  good  policy 
and  good  economy  to  give  it  to  him.  The  alternative  is 
that  of  paying  for  his  extra  skill  and  intensity  a  "fancy" 
price,  and  running  the  risk  upon  that  as  well  as  on  the 
standard  wage.  However,  if  Sammy  Stedman  has  got  out 
of  his  depth,  the  cue  of  all  concerned  is  not  to  rail  at  him 
and  despitefuUy  use  him,  but  gently  entreat  him,  for  he  is 
an  honest  man  and  one  waiting  upon  truth. 
'  I  do  not  propose  to  report  anymore  of  Stedman's  speech. 
He  went  into  his  "  secondly,"  and  showed  them  that  indi- 
vidually they  could  make  no  stand  or  head  against  the  firm 
phalanx  of  landlords'  and  employers'  interests ;  that  here 
and  there  some  might  receive  attention  and  justice  from 
good-hearted  employers,  but  that  the  only  practical  and 
sure  way  of  gaining  equal  ground  with  their  masters  in  con- 
tracting for  wages  was  to  unite  and  support  each  other,  and 
that  a  combination  formed  on  principles  of  mutual  aid,  of 
justice  to  themselves  and  justice  to  the  farmers,  would  be 
the  foundation  of  a  better  edifice  of  life  for  them  all. 

The  effect  of  all  this  on  the  hearers,  who  stood  nearly 
two  hours  patiently  hearing  it  out,  was  very  notable.  It  was 
true,  as  one  said  who  stood  by  and  watched  it,  that  you 
could  see  the  scales  falling  from  their  eyes.  The  men  were 
made  new  men.  They  had  taken  steps  in  thought  and  action. 
Never  again  could  they  be  the  patient,  acquiescent  creat- 


.JB^Jjgi; 


SAMMY    STEDMAN. 


67 


ures,  whose  docility  was  the  admiration  of  sciolists,  who 
drew  from  it  the  conclusion  that  this  uncommercial  and 
"almost  family"  relation  was  ordained  of  Heaven  !  A  res- 
olution was  arrived  at  to  form  a  Union  destined  to  be  a  dan- 
gerous enemy  to  that  other  Coddleton  Union,  which  had 
hitherto  ruled  the  district.  It  was  then  that  the  celebrated 
"Coddleton  Charter  of  Laborers'  Rights"  was  drawn  up; 
and,  lest  it  should  be  unknown  to  any  of  my  readers,  I 
transcribe  it  in  full :  ..■■:' -y:,:,.'-,..-'^'--:--^-y''"'"" ' 


"IVef  the  undersigned  laborers  of  Coddleton^  are  of 
J     opinion  that  we  are  not  treated  as  we  ought  to  be 
r       .  between  man  and  man. 

*'JVe  therefore  request  to  be  treated  otherwise. 

"  I.   Our  complaint  is  we  must  have  better  wages.     We 

are  only  getting  from  9J.  to  lis.  a  week  {some  8j.), 

and  such  of  us  as  has  families  hereby  declare  that 

^   //  is  not  possible  to  keep  thefn  on  this  sum  per  week, 

;        Moreoi'er^  we  respeckfully  submit  wages  is  risen  in 

all  departments  but  the  agricultooral  laborer.     He 

'  is  still  a  surf  .  :  :  V         V  ' 

"2.  Our  cottages — at  least  most  of  us — is  not  fit  for 
human  beings  to  live  in." 

[A  scene  when  this  is  under  discussion ;  Mrs.  Nollckens, 
with  great  vehemence,  and  no  little  plausibility,  insisting 
that  a  rider  shall  be  added  to  this  effect — "Speshully  houses 
on  Cliarnley  Farm,  an'  worst  of  all  John  Nollekens's,  which 
the  size  an'  the  rottenness  of  it  is  i)ast  enduring."     But  the 


68 


LITTLE      HODGE. 


meeting   persists   in   adhering   to  general   statements,  and 
remits  Mrs.  Nollekens  to  her  private  remedy.]  '    -   ;> 

(Continued.)  '■''Furthermore^  the  cottages  is  held  by 
the  week  of  the  farmers,  who  consequentially  can 
turn  us  out  whenever  they  choose,  and  do  so  without 
notice  if  so  inclined.  We  therefore  pray  for  cot- 
tages of  our  own,  near  the  farms,  by  the  year,  at  a 
reasonable  rent,  to  be  paid  out  of  our  wages, 

"  3.  Likewise  there  is  many  cases  where  the  man  has 
no  garden,  and  can^t  grow  any  potatoes  or  vegeta- 
bles. Jv  all  such  cases  we  respeckfully  beg  that  a 
small  piLce  of  land  should  be  hired  out  to  them^ 
or  given  with  the  cottage  if  convenient. 

"4.  Also  there  is  cows.      We  think  the  father  of  a  fam- 
ily ought  to  be  able  to  keep  a  cow  a?id  pervide  milk 
for  his  childern.     This  some  gentlemen  gives  their 
best  men,  and  we  request  it  will  be  allowed  to  all 
such  as  have  families. ^^ 


[The  irrepressible  Sally  Nollekens  heroically  fights  at  this 
juncture  for  the  introduction  of  a  claube  in  favor  of  pigs, 
and  gets  some  strong  support ;  but  again  the  general  ver- 
dict is  against  her,  leading  to  her  declaration,  amidst  great 
laughter,  "That  there  paper's  called  a  charier,  but  I  calls  un 
a  cheater.  If  zo  be  ee  draws  out  a  paper,  draw  it  out 
bravely,  an'  don't  gi'e  it  em  half  an'  half  like.  Lor*  bless 
the  chicken  hearts,  if  so  be  /  could  ha'  wrote  un,  Fd  a 


SAMMY    S  T  E  D  M  A  N 


69 


drawed  a  ch — ch — charter  would  a  made  the  farmers  sweat 
in  their  shirts,  I  warrant  un  ! "]    ;         i,  v 

"  5.   Our  agreement  is  that  wages  shall  be  ids.  In  har- 
vest, and  1^.  through  the  winter.     Also  we  will 
.  ,  not  take  less  than  t,  pence  the  hour,  or  the  equivalent, 

for  task  work. 

"  6.  We  hereby  agree  to  form  a  Union  for  the  above  ob- 
jects, and  pledge  ourselves  to  stand  by  each  other 
<  ////  7ve  succeed.'* 

Such  were  the  resolutions  come  to  that  May  evening  on 
Hankerley  Common  —  resolutions  containing  errors  pro- 
pounded with  the  quaintest  naivete,  pregnant,  nevertheless, 
with  serious  meanmg.  The  dread  principle  of  Combination, 
hitherto  confined  to  towns,  had  burst  its  bounds,  and  for 
good  or  evil  inoculating  the  yokels,  was  destined  thence- 
forth to  be  a  permanent  power  in  country  life.  Who  could 
calculate  or  measure  the  results  that  would  flow  from  this 
portentous  occurrence? 

A  levy  of  3d.  each  upon  all  signers  of  the  charter  was 
made  for  preliminary  expenses,  and  a  committee  appointed, 
with  Sammy  Stedman  as  chairman,  to  communicate  with  the 
farmers.  Finally,  it  was  resolved  that  should  they  fail  in 
obtaining  the  advance  of  wages  asked  for  they  should  strike. 

Strike/  A  word  sending  terror  to  the  hearts  of  capital- 
ists, harrowing  landowners,  employers,  and  consumers  alike ! 
A  word  to  make  squires  and  farmers,  thinking  of  their  scat- 
tered halls  and  farm-houses,  their  exposed  ricks,  their  ranging 
cattle  and  sheep,  tremble  with  apprehension. 


70 


LITTLE      HODGE. 


1 


The  word  Union  was  enough  for  them !  It  transferred 
them  from  the  peaceful  air  of  the  country  to  the  revolutionary- 
atmosphere  of  the  great  towns.  It  brought  before  their  eyes 
visions  of  murdered  masters,  "rattened"  machinery,  burning 
factories,  tyrannical  rules,  truculent  and  disorderly  meetings, 
and,  above  all,  the  terrible  powers  of  Strike.  A  word  too 
long  associated  with  secret  conspiracy  and  dark  deeds  of 
violence,  and  malicious  destruction,  and  harsh  laws  sternly 
administered,  and  reprisals  and  animosities  in  what  ought  to 
have  been  the  holy  brotherhood  of  Capital  and  Labor. 
Everything  evil  that  ever  came  out  of  or  was  attached  to  the 
idea  of  Unions  was  conjured  up  to  their  imagination  by  the 
word  ;  and  to  all  this  heritage  of  scandal  and  horror,  without 
the  solemnity  of  any  deed  of  transfer,  succeeded  the  unfort- 
unate Union  that  was  born  at  Coddleton  out  of  the  exigen- 
cies of  Little  Hodge.  Very  few  stopped  to  inquire  what 
these  men  were  really  wanting,  what  they  had  really  resolved 
to  do.  In  fact,  the  very  terms  were  enough  to  damn  the 
whole  proceeding.  They  asked  more  wages,  they  had  drawn 
up  a  Charter,  they  had  formed  a  Union  I  they  threatened 
A  STRIKE  ! !  What  more  need  be  said  ?  This  was  the  end 
of  social  peace,  a  blow  at  the  roots  of  society,  the  death- 
warrant  of  the  country.  It  was  forgotten,  naturally  enough, 
that  the  name  "  Union  "  no  longer  meant  a  secret  conspiracy, 
but  an  open  combination,  recognized  and  protected  by  law ; 
that  the  reasons  for  the  old  acts  of  violence  had  vanished, 
and  that  the  occasional  reappearance  of  truculent  force  in 
certain  localities  was  exceptional,  and  always  reprehended 
by  the  leaders  of  the  best  town  Unions ;  and  above  all,  that 


A     CURIOUS    DETHEL. 


7x 


there  were  Unions  and  Unions ;  that  that  which  disfigured 
the  rules  of  the  one  was  not  to  be  found  in  another ;  that 
Unions  need  no  more  be  copies  of  one  another  than  all  joint- 
stock  companies  need  engage  in  the  same  business  or  be 
subject  to  the  same  rules.  In  failing  to  note  this  fact  the 
squirearchy  and  their  tenants  made  their  first  trip  in  tactics, 
and  lost  an  opportunity,  by  early  and  conciliatory  negotiation, 
of  giving  to  the  Charter  a  shape  harmonizing  with  the  differ- 
ent circumstances  of  rural  life,  and  securing  them  from  out- 
bursts of  unjust  and  angry  caprice  on  the  part  of  their  labor- 
ers. But  the  die  was  cast,  and  it  was  for  Death  to  the 
Union.  The  fatal  results  of  this  blunder  we  have  yet  to 
trace. 

But  what  if,  after  all,  their  real  resentment  arose  more 
from  this,  that  the  very  mention  of  higher  wages  to  men, 
farming  badly  and  overweighted  with  rent,  and  too  often 
living  more  like  men  of  leisure  and  fortune  than  agriculturists, 
was  a  strain  too  excessive  for  bucolic  stoicism  to  endure  ? 


CHAPTER  VI. 


A  CURIOUS   BETHEL. 


I  HAVE  not  yet  described  Hodge's  home.  It  was  a  cot- 
tage which  had  the  advantage  of  standing  by  itself  at  a  cor- 
ner of  the  farm  near  the  road.  It  had  no  doubt  been  built 
away  from  the  other  cottages  on  the  farm  in  order  that  the 
tenant  should  command  the  entrance  to  that  part  of  it.  It 
had  existed  time  whereof  the  memory  of  nan  ran  not  to  the 


^^w 


1] 


72 


LITTLE     HODGE 


contrary.  'Twas  a  thick  rubble-walled  place,  of  a  dingy 
ochre  tint,  with  a  heavy  thatch  cap  of  great  antiquity,  and 
small  windows  with  leaden  casements  and  diamond-shaped 
panes.  It  stood  in  the  garden  of  which  a  survey  has  already 
been  given.  Inside,  the  floor  was  paved  with  uneven  flags. 
Ten  feet  by  twelve  was  the  dimensions  of  the  room,  the  two 
V  xtra  feet  one  way  including  the  chimney-place  :  a  low,  un- 
ceiled  room  that  had  once  been  whitewashed.  The  furni- 
ture was  a  deal  table,  well  scrubbed  in  Mrs.  Hodge's  days, 
a  swinging  deal  shelf,  two  or  three  fixed  shelves,  an  old 
bench,  three  chairs  and  a  stool.  Up  on  the  high  mantel- 
board  were  three  gaudily  colored  crockery  figures — the  Duke 
of  Wellington  with  :i  red  and  green  uniform,  a  ruby  nose, 
and  cheeks  of  inebriated  hue,  supported  by  a  blue  and  yel- 
low lion  startant — stare -ant  on  one  side,  and  a  sheep  couch- 
ant  alb  on  a  field  gules  and  verdant  on  the  other.  The  only 
other  ornament  was  an  old  almanac  many  a  year  since  pasted 
on  the  walls,  and  now  exhibiting  a  dingy  and  fly-specked 
face  harmonizing  with  its  background.  There  were  two 
brass  candlesticks,  one  of  which  had  bent  beneath  the  weight 
of  time.  Behind  an  old  piece  of  baize  were  concealed  the 
family  tea-cups  and  saucers.  The  rest  of  the  family  crockery 
was  easily  accommodated  on  one  of  the  fixed  shelves  afore- 
said, and  the  family  plate,  consisting  of  an  iron  ladle  and  a 
couple  of  metal  teaspoons,  reckless  and  fortuitous  in  its 
habits,  was  always  of  uncertain  locality.  A  door  at  the  back 
opened  on  a  small  bricked  square,  about  four  feet  across, 
from  which  covered  stairs  to  the  attic  went  up  along  the  side 
of  the  house.     They  had  not  far  to  go.     The  lower  room 


i-a 


•■+ 


A    CURIOUS     BETHEL. 


73 


dingy 
r,  and 
tiaped 
I  ready 
flags, 
le  two 
w,  un- 
furni- 
5  days, 
an  old 
uantel- 
;  Duke 
y  nose, 
Lud  yel- 
couch- 
10  only 
pasted 
pecked 
re   two 
weight 
led  the 
ockery 
s  afore- 
and  a 
in  its 
c  back 
across, 
he  side 
r  room 


b 


was  only  eight  feet  high.  The  upper,  with  its  sloping  roof, 
lighted  by  dormer-windows  through  the  thatch,  just  permitted 
Hodge  to  stand  upright  in  its  centre.  Its  contents  were  a 
bed,  rsT  low  wooden  frame  upholding  a  mattress,  a  settle  in 
under  the  eaves,  and  a  loose  mattress  in  the  other  corner. 
The  only  carpet  in  the  house,  an  old  piece  of  felt,  lay  beside 
the  parental  couch.  I  hope  it  will  not  be  considered  vulgar 
to  tell  the  tr-th  that  before  and  after  Mra.  Hodge's  decease 
Mary  slept  in  the  same  bed  with  her  father.  Thank  God, 
they  were  simple  folk  ! 

Such  was  the  house.  Yet  outside,  with  its  deep,  dark 
thatch,  small  windows,  and  low  elevation,  it  was  very  pic- 
turesque, and  any  one  passing  by  might  have  said  that  "  it 
was  amazing  to  see  the  comfort  and  attractiveness  of  English 
cottage  life ; "  for  jessamine  climbed  over  the  remnants  of 
the  rotted  porch  in  front,  honeysuckle  wicathed  the  window, 
and  Mrs.  Hodge  had  always  maintained  some  annual 
creepers  ovcrmnning  the  back  door  and  festooning  the  out- 
side staircase.  If  comfort  could  have  come  out  of  aesthetic 
gratification,  possibly  these  poor  people  might  have  led  a 
tolerable  life. 

Ir  this  theatre  of  rural  bliss,  while  the  plot  was  thickening 
for  the  formation  of  the  Union  and  the  declaration  of  rustic 
rights,  the  starvation  and  distress  of  Hedge's  family  in- 
creased in  a  geometric  ratio.  It  had  not  taken  m.my  weeks 
to  bring  the  few  weeds  the  poor  dead  woman  had  so  aptly 
managed  in  keeping  her  children  decently  clad,  into  a  con- 
dition to  strike  even  Hodge's  uninstructed  eye.  Whenever 
Mary  could  get  little  Hodge's  stomach  and  voice  to  come 


-"W^P5j?g 


.# 


14 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


to  a  truce  and  be  quiet,  no  easy  task  with  the  food  the 
child  was  dry-nursed  upon,  you  might  have  seen  her  stand- 
ing on  a  stool  over  the  big  half  barrel  that  formed  the 
wash-tub,  and  plunging  her  small  arms  into  the  indifferently 
lathered  water  in  a  womanly  attempt  to  wpsh  the  family 
linen,  or  sitting  down  with  tlie  paste-board  b  »x  that  had 
long  done  duty  as  a  work-basket,  and  with  willing  but  in- 
different stitches  skewering  together  the  disintegrating  gar- 
ment?, cf  her  brothers  and  sisters.  Pale  and  dark  undc.  the 
eyes,  with  whitening  lip;:.,  the  brave  little  womin  sat  and 
faced  with  steady  courage  the  growing  horrors  of  her  situa- 
tion, and  whiles  she  sang,  and  whiles  she  cheered  the  others 
v.'ith  her  mother-like  trl^  and  whiles  she  encouraged  them 
to  go  and  gather  sticks  in  the  coppice  for  the  morning  fire. 
Then  sometimes,  when  she  was  left  alone,  you  might 
have  seen  her  l\y  her  weary,  troubled  lif'o  head  on  the 
table-edge,  and  weep  over  the  memory  of  her  mother  dead 
and  her  own  living  experience  of  sorrow  and  care. 

Little  Hodge  grew  daily  more  sickly  and  troublesome. 
Mary  had  twice  or  thrice  obtained  medicine  from  the  dis- 
pensary for  him,  but  peppermint  drops  were  a  poor  stimu- 
lant or  sedative  for  his  complaint.  He  wanted  milk  and 
food.  She  had  discovered  it  was  now  impossible  any  longer 
to  conceal  the  other  children's  necessities  from  their  father. 
They  must  either  have  some  more  cloliies  or  go  to  bed, 
said  Mrs.  Nollekens.  The  poor  nan  himself  had  once  or 
twice  thoughtlessly  remarked  on  their  raggedness,  and  re- 
proached the  child  by  recalling  their  appearance  under  her 
mother's  hands.     How  little  had  he  estimated  what  that  im- 


A    CURIOUS     BETHEL. 


75 


food  the 
ler  stand- 
)rmed  the 
differently 
the  family 
^.  that  had 
ig  but  in- 
rating  gar- 
.  unde.-  the 
in  sat  and 
f  her  situa- 

the  others 
raged  them 
orning  fire, 
you  might 
?ad  on  the 
other  dead 

oublesome. 
)m  the  dis- 
)oor  stimu- 
1  milk  and 
any  longer 
Lhcir  father, 
go  to  bed, 
ad  once  or 
•ss,  and  re- 
•  under  her 
lat  that  im- 


plied when  the  poor  woman  was  living  !     How  many  hus- 
ban(]s  ever  do?  . 

Hodge  had  come  home,  and  was  sitting  waiting  for  sup- 
per. There  was  part  of  a  great  brown  loaf  on  the  table, 
and  Tummas  had  picked  a  few  watercresses,  which  with 
some  salt  completed  the  set-out.  Tea  was  brewing  on  the 
hearth :  one  teaspoonful  of  village  tea  to  the  quantity  of 
water  a  man  could  drink  after  a  day's  work.  But  he  bad 
had  his  beer.  Little  Hodge  lay  in  the  well-used  box,  the 
cradle  of  the  Hodge  family. 

"  Fayther,"  Mary  said,  as  she  sat  and  watched  him  eating 
the  meal,  "what's  to  become  o'  we,  fayther?" 

Hodge  stopped,  with  a  large  piece  of  bread  and  a  bunch 
of  watercresses  between  his  teeth,  quite  aghast  that  Mary 
should  have  hit  upon  the  very  question  that  was  the  burden 
of  his  thoughts  morning,  noon,  and  night. 

"Ay,  Mary,"  he  said  presently,  "what's  to  become  o'  we, 
Mary?     God  knows— /don't." 

"Fayther,"  she  said,  painfully,  "I've  a  done  all  I  can  to 
save,  and  the  money's  all  gone,  and  four  shillin'  owin'  to  the 
baker,  and  the  dairyman  to  Charnley  told  Tummas  he 
couldn't  let  him  have  any  more  milk  without  the  cop- 
pers. And,  fayther,  there's  scarcely  any  clothes  left  to  we 
childern,  and  indeed,  fayther,  'tain't  my  fault,  but  every- 
thing's a  wearing  out,  and  there  be  need  o'  a  rare  lot  o* 
money  to  get  'em  all  new  clothes.  I've  mugglcd  along,  but 
'taint  no  use  to  try  to  mend  'em  any  more."  And  so  Mary 
broke  down  and  wept,  and  Hodge's  grim  face  grew  more 
grim  and  strange  as  he  sat  and  looked  at  her. 


■'*;■>  :-r:^' 


76 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


"God  help  us!"  he  said;  "I  can't  a  bear  it  much 
longer." 

"  Here's  poor  little  Ben,  fayther,  Y.Sve  scarcely  took  a 
thing  for  more'n  two  days.  He  cried  hisself  to  sleep. 
Look  at  him."  She  uncovered  the  tiny  face.  "  He's  amost 
like  a  corpse,  fayther,  hain't  he?" 

"Ha!"  replied  the  father,  with  a  long,  deep-drawn  sigh, 
"poor  little  Ben  !  And  'tis  all  along  o'  he  we  be  so 
trubbled.  Us  could  a  spared  him,  Mary,  without  missing 
him,  if  the  Lord  had  so  a  willed." 

"  O  naw,  fayther,"  and  Mary's  arms  went  '  ound  the  child, 
as  its  dying  mother's  had  done,  with  affectionate  energy, 
"I  couldn't  a  spared  him,  fayther — sh — sh — sh  ! — naw,  nor 
I  wouldn't  a  spared  him  ^/len.  There,  there — sh — sh — sh  !  " 
And  so  Hodge  got  up  and  went  out,  leaving  Mary  to  quiet 
the  embarrassing  youngling. 

When,  an  hour  later,  he  returned,  Mary  had  gone  to  bed. 
As  he  lit  the  remains  of  the  candle  and  it  flickered  up  over 
his  face,  once  so  cleanly  shaven,  now  bristling  with  the 
careless  growth,  it  showed  an  odd  light  in  his  eyes.  He 
moved  about  and  made  some  dispositions  in  the  room.  He 
took  off  his  boots  and  went  upstairs,  and  out  of  the  chest 
selected  a  few  things  which  he  brought  down  and  made  into 
a  bundle.  Then,  stretching  hiinself  on  the  floor,  with  his 
bead  on  the  bundle  and  his  coat  over  him,  he  went  to  sleep. 

As  the  St  reafts  of  morning  began  to  brighten  into  a  fan  of 
long  light  shatk^  upon  the  eastern  sky,  the  man,  rising  from 
his  hard  bed,  donned  his  coat  ai  '  ''j*'c'''*'f.  He  then 
counted  the  money  in  his  pocket,  arjriAntii'i'j  ic    'vo  shilHngs- 


A    CURIOUS     BETHEL. 


77 


and  ninepence,  wrapping  halt  of  it  in  a  piece  of  paper  which 
he  laid  on  the  table,  and  retaining  half  for  his  own  use. 
He  laid  some  wood  for  a  fire,  and  brought  in  some  water. 
Near  the  money  on  the  table  he  put  a  knife  and  a  carrot  or 
two  he  had  brought  home  the  night  before,  so  that  Mary 
might  find  them  ready  for  the  morning  meal.  His  bundle 
was  on  the  table  beside  his  stick  and  hat,  his  large  clogs 
were  placed  opposite  a  chair  ready  to  be  put  on  at  the  last 
moment,  whei  Hodge  stole  upstairs  to  take  a  farewell  look 
at  his  children.  Here  were  Tummas,  and  Sally,  and  Ned, 
and  Jack,  all  mingled  together  in  glorious  confusion  in  the 
corner ;  there  were  the  others  on  the  settle,  and  he  kissed 
them  every  one.  Lastly  he  looked  at  Mary,  who  lay  with 
his  latest  diminutive  item  of  despair  asleep  on  her  arm.  At 
her  he  looked  with  fast-gathering  tears. 

"God  bless  ee,  Mary  dear.  How  like  she  look  to  her 
mother.  God  knows  it  cuts  my  heart,  Mary,  to  turn  my 
back  on  ee  and  leave  ee  and  all  the  rest — it  do,  it  do  !  But 
I  can't  help  *em;  how  can  I  ?  There,  if  I  goes,  the  Parish'U 
take  care  of  'em,  and  maybe  eddicate  'em,  and  give  'em  a 
start  in  '  -^  ./or]-!;  but  for  my  part,  what  can  I  do  fur  'em 
but  starve  'em  ?  '  > 

He  bent  over  the  sleeping  girl. 

"  Mary,"  said  he,  "  good  by.  It  pricks  I  terrible  to  leave 
ee,  Mary,"  and  a  drop  from  his  eye  fell  on  her  cheek.  It 
disturbed  her.  She  half  opened  her  eyes,  but  .she  was 
heavy  with  weariness  and  turned  away  her  head  again,  un- 
conscious that  she  had  received  a  parting  tribute  of  her 
foither's  love.  " 


saas 


^  -mir 


78 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


4 


h 


<i 


Then  John  Hodge  stood  up  with  his  head  touching  the 
rafter,  and  said,  solemnly : 

"If  so  be  Godamitey  do  bless  I  where  I'm  a  goin'  in 
furrin'  parts,  an'll  give  I  good  wages,  and  such  a  living  as'U 
suffice  to  keep  us  ail  comfortable  in  Canady,  I'll  send  home 
for  ee  all ;  I  will,  so  help  me  God ! "  said  John  Hodge, 
adopting  a  court  phrase. 

And  then,  with  no  ascending  or  descending  angels  visible 
to  him,  no  voice  of  Bethel  ringing  in  his  ears,  he  went  down 
the  stairs,  and,  how  he  knew  not,  laced  up  the  huge  clogs, 
seized  the  stick  and  bundle,  and,  driving  his  old  felt  hat 
down  tightly  over  iiis  brow,  turned  his  back  on  his  home, 
his  children,  his  parish,  his  parson,  his  master,  the  Guar- 
dians, and  the  British  Poor-law. 

•  ••••-•• 

The  execrable  cowardice  of  this  man  makes  my  heart 
bleed.  I  find  in  him  many  of  the  best  elements  of  human 
nature ;  sacrifice,  faithfulness  through  long  and  frequent 
trials  to  a  first  love  and  to  love's  progeny;  tenderness  of 
heart;  a  gentleness  that  testified  itself  in  rarely-forgetful 
acts  of  home  courtesy  ;  a  homely  and  simple  piety,  of  a  sort 
that  recognized  God,  though  in  a  puzzled  way  to  account 
for  the  consistency  of  that  belief  with  the  facts  of  his  own 
daily  experience  ;  a  man  who  never  wronged  a  neighbor, 
never  quarrelled,  never  defrauded  his  master  of  anything 
but  an  hour's  work  on  some  sleepy  day  when  his  eye  was 
oft' him:  this  was  the  recreant,  tursid  craven  who,  on  a  May 
morning,  basely  deserted,  and  left  upon  the  Guardians  and 
ratepayers  oi  Coddleton  Union,  eleven  children,  including 
Little  Hodge. 


PART  III. 


UNION  AND  DISUNION. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  TOURNAMENT  OF  CAPITAL  AND  LABOR. 


While  Hodge  was  thus  blindly  seeking  to  cut  for  himself 
the  knot  of  fate,  the  event  whereof  he  and  his  offspring  had 
been  the  prompting  cause  began  to  be  blown  about  and 
to  create  an  excitement  through  the  whole  country.  To 
half  the  hearers  it  was  a  portent  of  terror  and  evil ;  to  others 
it  was  glad  tidings  of  the  salvation  of  a  hitherto  hopeless 
class.  Philanthropists,  sentimentalists,  sociologists,  ay,  and 
socialists :  Radicals,  Nonconformists,  Chartists,  advocates  of 
women's  rights,  the  anti-Game-law  people.  Trades-unionists, 
social  and  political  sciolists — it  must,  for  the  sake  of  truth, 
be  confcE*;ed  that  some,  or  all  of  these  did  forthwith  effer- 
vesce in  sympathy  for  Hodge,  whose  stoiy,  in  every  style 
of  newspaper  English,  from  the  vivid  and  graphic  periods  of 
the  greatest  of  war  correspondents  to  the  crude  simplicities 
of  country  reporters,  was  expanded  in  columns  of  type, 
bought  and  read  with  avidity  on  every  hand.  Is  there  any 
incident — religious,  horrible,  profane,  or  pathetic — out  of 
which  in  these  ingenious  days  no  one  can  make  any  capi- 
lii?    The  voice  of  the  Hankerley  laborers  wet:  into  many 


■»■"▼•  ■"^'-- 


80 


LITTLE     HODGE, 


! 


hearts.  And  when  raging  editors  boiled  over  with  vicarious 
indignation  for  their  bucolic  patrons,  and  landowners  palpi- 
tated in  the  face  of  this  new  upheaval,  one  and  all  neverthe- 
less admitted  that  much  was  to  be  said  and  much  to  be 
done  for  the  tillers  of  the  soil.  But,  what  it  was  clear  to 
these  persons  in  their  fury,  and  whs.t  above  all  they  pro- 
tested was  what  ought  not  to  be  done,  was  this :  to  disturb 
the  genial  quiet,  the  gentle  harmony  of  country  associations 
by  irruptions  of  Trades-unionism  —  to  inoculate  Hodge, 
Styles,  and  Nollekens  with  the  doctrines  of  economy. 
These  were  the  peculiar  heritage  of  the  cities.  For,  it  was 
asserted,  the  relations  of  employers  and  laborers  in  the 
country  were  the  growth  of  grateful  centuries,  and  ordained 
of  Heaven ;  a  relation  of  patriarchal  form  and  simplicity  ,  a 
sacred  combination  wherein  to  push  the  rude  car  of  com- 
mercial principles  was  to  break  a  circle  of  organized  affec- 
tions and  destroy  the  arrangements  of  Providence.  These 
arguments  appeared  in  print. 

Certainly  there  was  much  to  account  for  this  hysterical 
rhetoric.  Had  not  the  Trades-unions  in  the  towns  at  once 
passed  resolutions  of  sympathy,  and  poured  their  brotherly 
gifts  into  the  treasury  of  the  infant  combination  ?  Did  not 
social  sciolists  precipitate  themselves  upon  Hankerley,  each 
with  a  separate  nostmm  for  the  bewildered  rustics  ?  Had 
they  not  already  been  asked  to  look  forward  to  the  separa- 
tion of  Church  and  State,  the  alteration  of  the  county  fran- 
•  l^ise,  and  the  re-distribution  of  seats?  Had  not  Radi- 
cal associations  sent  resolutions  of  congratulation  and 
opened    subscription-lists?     Had   not    the    Land    League 


I 


'■*n^~-'''jw?fiiP' 


TOURNAMENT    OF    CAPITAL    AND     LABOR.     8l 


— omen  monstroswn  I — recognized  the  movement  as  a 
step  in  the  right  direction?  AVere  not  "epileptic  M.P.'s" 
and  officious  pamphleteers,  "eager  for  notoriety,"  and 
"moved  by  a  pure  spirit  of  mischief,"  rushing  to  the  scene 
of  action  and  venting  their  crude  platitudes  upon  the  hapless 
hinds?  In  fact,  were  not  the  whole  of  that  numberless, 
aimless,  irrepressible,  fidgety,  bothersome,  dangerous  set  of 
people  which  can  be  classed  under  the  name  of  agitators 
converging  on  Hankerley,  and  d  ncing  their  demonstrative 
fandangoes  before  all  the  word,  in  scandalous  delight  at  the 
mischief  that  was  brewing  ?  If  the  movement  had  been  a 
bad  one  it  had  been  certainly  damned  by  its  friends. 

But  it  was  little  wonder  if  all  this  happened !  No  marvel 
if,  besides  all  this,  in  many  a  quiet  home  in  England  gentle 
hearts  beat  with  excitement,  and  generous  souls  quickened 
into  sympathy  that  the  day  of  the  laborers'  resurrection  had 
come ;  for  it  was  natural  to  such  souls  to  rejoice  when  they 
heard,  "  Thy  brother  was  dead  and  is  alive  again :  he  was  lost 
and  is  found."  It  was  the  rich  elder  brother  who  grudged 
the  joy.  From  a  death  worse  than  death,  the  inertness  and 
ineptitude  of  ignorant  content,  Hodge  had  wakened  to  life, 
and  his  class  with  him.  How  it  fared  with  Hodge  himself, 
we  shall  see  :  how  it  fared  with  Hodge's  work  only  the 
Book  of  Time  and  the  Apocalypse  of  Eternity  will  show. 

The  I-aborers'  Charter  was  printed,  and  a  copy  served  on 
each  of  the  fanners  within  the  limits  of  the  Coddleton  dis- 
trict. At  the  same  time  a  notice  was  given  that  the  rate 
of  wages  stated  in  the  Charter  would   be  insisted  upon. 

Afost  of  the  farmers  were  inclined  to  receive  this  news  as  a 
6 


la 


1 


i 


i!' 


82 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


joke,  but  those  who  had  attended  the  Hankerley  meeting 
soon  undeceived  them.  Jolly,  Truscott,  and  their  com- 
panions had  that  evening  assured  themselves  that  the  men 
were  in  earnest,  though  they  were  certain  that  the  move- 
ment had  no  backbone.  At  the  end  of  a  week,  by  arrange- 
ment, all  the  laborers  in  Hankerley  took  their  week's  waL!;es 
and  left  their  work.  The  farmer  who  got  up  early  on  Mon- 
day morning  in  faith  that  it  was  a  joke  was  himself  cmelly 
hoaxed.  Horses,  hoes,  harrows,  hedge -clips,  or  what  not, 
rested  from  their  labors,  and  not  a  man  was  to  be  seen.  In 
twenty-four  hours  a  meeting  of  employers  was  called. 
Squire  Byrton  took  the  chair.  He  was  supported  by  many 
neighboring  landowners,  by  Mr.  Leicester  and  the  incum- 
bents of  two  other  parishes.  Sammy  Stedman  laughed 
when  he  read  this  in  the  County  Chronicle.  The  parsons 
were  playing  into  his  hands.  If  at  this  meeting  there  was 
more  heat  than  argument,  it  should  not  be  reflected  upon. 
It  was  natural.  Time  must  needs  elapse  and  the  movement 
grow  stronger  before  the  interest  so  weakly  attacked  would 
bring  itself  to  attempt  to  formulate  a  defence.  It  was  sim- 
ply considered  and  resolved  that  the  mere  notion  of  a  strike 
in  the  county  was  unendurable ;  that  those  present  would 
to  a  man  "  resist  the  introduction  into  the  agricultural  sys- 
tem of  that  principle  of  Unionism  which  had  been  the  curse 
of  the  country,  setting  class  against  class,  and  destroying 
those  happy  relations  which  ought  to  exist  between  em- 
ployers and  employed."  I  quote  the  words  of  Mr.  Leices- 
ter. They  were  reiterated  by  the  chairman,  they  were 
cheered  by  the  meeting.     Two  or  three  gentlemen  admitted 


TOURNAMENT    OF    CAPITA  T,    AND     LABOR.     83 


that  wages  were  too  low  and  ought  to  be  increased  ;  but  as 
a  preliminary  to  the  performance  of  their  duty  in  this  re- 
spect, the  farmers  resolved  to  repudiate  the  organization 
which  had  opened  their  eyes  to  a  fact  they  had  before 
refused  to  recognize.  Notably,  Mr.  Jolly,  wlio  would  not 
hearken  to  John  Hodge's  appeal  for  better  pay,  now  sug- 
gested that  it  would  be  a  wise  policy  to  raise  the  wages 
of  non-Unionists.  Every  one  agreed  that  Unionists  must 
be  "locked  out,"  and  Squire  Byrton  announced  his  inten- 
tion of  evicting  any  Unionist  who  tenanted  his  cottages. 

— Thus  the  social  war  was  declared.  The  gauntlet  thrown 
down  on  one  side  was  taken  up  by  the  other,  and  each  party 
set  lance  in  rest  for  the  coming  fray.  The  trumpets  were 
blown  by  the  heralds  of  the  Press,  while  an  excited  crowd 
of  spectators  cheered  and  counter-cheered  the  barbarous 
spectacle.  In  this  way,  O  Christ-regenerated  England ! 
heir  to  nineteen  centuries  of  Christian  love,  does  the  awful 
tournament  of  Labor  and  Capital  itill  join  its  deadly  issues 
before  most  Christian  sovereigns  and  a  most  Christian 
people !  '  '  '    .-"r 

The  effect  of  the  masters'  challenge  was  to  arouse  pre- 
cisely that  spirit  of  resentment  which  could  alone  give 
strength  to  the  weaker  hinds.  They  received  the  notices  of 
eviction  with  stolidity.  Many  who  had  not  joined  the 
movement  now  attached  themselves  to  it:  they  completed 
their  organization :  Sammy  Stedman  became  Chairman, 
Jack  Horner  the  Secretary.  Labor  all  over  the  country 
was  in  a  ferment ;  the  agricultural  districts  seethed  with  an 
excitement  which  threatened  to  spread  into  every  county. 


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84 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


At  the  suggestion  of  some  Metropolitan  Unionists  a  singu- 
lar course  was  resolved  upon.  It  was  agreed  that  the  battle 
should  be  fought  out  within  the  limits  of  Coddlcton  district. 
A  general  understanding  was  arrived  at  that  not  a  single 
laborer  should  pass  the  bounds  into  the  district  to  help  the 
farmers,  so  that  the  latter  might  be  left  to  solve  their  diffi- 
culties with  the  labor  that  faced  them.  At  present  they  felt 
pretty  strong.  The  May  blossoms  were  yet  upon  the 
hedges,  their  seed  was  in  the  ground,  and  they  could  for  a 
few  weeks  afford  to  go  short-handed.  By  the  time  they 
were  ready  for  the  men  they  had  no  doubt  the  latter  would 
come  in.  The  story  of  this  great  representative  struggle  I 
now  propose  to  write.  . 

.-;-.  .,■■-  ■  .i,^'' ..-,';     *  *      ■■:'■.  '"     "-  -        ■.''■,      I  '--■'  ■' 
CHAPTER  II. 

AN   INARGUABLE   CASE. 

Of  all  the  men  to  whom  the  Laborers'  Charter  had  given 
offence,  Squire  Byiton  v/as  the  most  offended.  Manly> 
generous,  open-hearted,  with  an  afiection  for  a  servant  that 
obeyed,  and  a  contempt  for  servility  in  a  gentleman  ;  with  a 
high  reverence  for  the  Church,  and  utter  detestation  of  the 
obscure  sects  which  spring  like  mushrooms  under  its  great 
Gothic  shadow ;  with  a  supreme  admiration  fcr  the  estab- 
lished order  of  things,  and  an  ineffable  scorn  for  those  who 
would  disturb  that  sacred  stability;  putting  Radicals,  Infi- 
dels, Trade-unionists,  and  Nonconformists  In  the  same  pot 
of  wrath  for  a  day  of  wrath — 'twas  no  wonder  that  the  bile 


il! 


AN     IN ARGUABLE    CASE. 


85 


was  stirred  within  him  by  this  atrocious  outbreak  of  all  the 
obnoxious  powers  in  sight  of  the  windows  of  his  ancestral 
home. 

When  he  returned  from  the  meeting  at  Coddleton  his  dis- 
composure was  visible  to  his  family.  A  large  and  squirely 
family  was  Mr.  Byrton's.  The  noble-looking  dame  at  the 
end  of  the  table ;  the  fair-faced,  clear-eyed,  cherry-lipped 
girl  at  his  side,  with  her  golden-rippling  tresses,  his  own 
image  and  eldest  born  :  the  two  ruddy  sisters,  with  their 
mother's  brown  hair  and  eyes  ;  the  younger  boys,  sunburned 
and  healthy,  down  to  wee  Caroline,  the  flaxen-curled  pet  of 
the  household — the  Squire  could  look  round  proudly  and 
look  forward  hopefully  at  his  family  board. 

Emily  was  a  woman,  now  one  and-twenty,  slender,  and 
straight,  and  tall,  and  crested  as  a  graceful  palm-tree.  What 
wonder  that  her  beauty  and  grace  had  won  the  heart  of 
Henry  Ewbank,  Esquire,  Barrister-at-Law,  a  man  on  the 
Western  Circuit,  son  of  Sir  Henry  Ewbank,  of  Ewbank,  not 
ten  miles  away  from  Byrton  Hall?  And  what  wonder  that 
he,  a  fine  young  Englishman,  wich  a  plain  open  face,  a  noble 
brow,  a  manly  character,  and  gieat  natural  parts,  should 
have  attracted  the  affections  of  the  somev»hat  secluded  girl  ? 
Young  Ewbank  came  out  a  good  fourth  at  Cambridge,  and 
relinquishing  the  sports  of  the  country  and  the  miserable  oc- 
cupation of  waiting  for  the  death  of  a  father  whom  he  wished 
not  to  die,  took  to  the  Bar,  where  he  was  not  without  hope 
of  success.  Sir  Henry  and  Mr.  Byrton  were  of  the  same 
politics  and  fast  County  friends.  The  latter  looked  with  sat" 
isfaction  upon  the  projected  alliance  with  the  Ibionct's  fam- 


86 


LITTLE     HODGE 


11: 


ily.  There  was  only  one  drawback.  The  young  man  "  had 
notioiis."  He  took  his  father's  name  with  pride,  but  held 
his  father's  politics  in  derision.  In  religion  and  politics  he 
thought  for  himself,  and  without  the  prejudices  of  his  caste. 
In  fact,  the  Squire  twitted  his  daughter  with  her  engagement 
to  a  "Radical."  Emily  Byrton  bore  it  very  calmly.  To 
tell  the  truth  she  had  used  her  leisure  and  an  active  mind  to 
some  purpose,  and  was  not  by  any  means  one  of  the  doU- 
lik  *  creatures  which  modern  sociology  depicts  as  an  object 
of  reform.  Henry  Ewbank  was  delighted  with  the  freshness 
and  earnestness  of  her  thoughts ;  but  he  was  a  prejudiced 
v/itness,  let  us  not  (serrate  her. 

iVhen  the  Squire  came  home  from  the  meeting,  and,  after 
dressing  in  considerable  heat,  sat  down  at  his  table  with  his 
face  in  an  apoplectic  state  of  indignation,  Emily  ought  to 
have  permitted  him  to  discharge  his  indignation  unhindered. 
But  mischief  was  in  her  eyes  and  looks  when  she  saw  her 
father's  embarrassment,  and  there  was  a  sympathy  in  her 
heart  she  could  not  perhaps  have  suppressed. 

'•'■  ForwhatweareabouttoreceivetheLordmakeustrulyihankful^^ 
said  the  Squire,  as  if  he  were  angry  with  the  Almighty  and 
meant  to  pay  Him  oft*  by  a  suiky  grace. 

"  Well,  papa,  how  did  you  get  on  at  your  meeting  ?  " 

'*  Oh  !  capitally — quite  unanimous.  We  have  decided  on 
action  that  is  sure  to  bring  these  poor  fools  to  their  senses." 

"  Are  you  going  to  imprison  them  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  wish  we  could,"  said  the  Squire.  "  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  those  cowardly  Radicals  we  should  have  had  the 


ii 


AN    INARGUABLE     CASE. 


87 


Combination  Laws  to  use  in  such  a  case  as  this.  There 
never  was  a  wickeder  conspiracy." 

"  Do  you  really  think  there  was  a  conspiracy,  or  don't  you 
think  that  these  poor  men  are  really  underpaid  and  have 
been  forced  to  this  of  themselves  ?  You  know  Henry  goes 
about  talking  to  them  when  he  is  down  here,  and  he  told  me 
they  were  wretchedly  underpaid.  He  is  trying  to  get  his  fa- 
ther to  move  in  the  matter." 

"  Oh  !  He  goes  about  talking  to  them,  does  he  ?  Well, 
that  accounts  for  it.  We  have  'viewed'  the  original  con- 
spirator," said  the  Squire,  with  a  grave  face. 

"  But  he  did  not  put  any  ideas  into  their  heads,  you  know. 
He  only  asked  questions ;  b^jcause  he  told  me  he  did  not 
like  to  raise  hopes  that  seemed  to  him  in  their  present  con- 
dition to  be  impossible  of  attainment." 

"Their  'present  condition,'  eh?  What  the  deuce  does 
he  know  about  their  '  present  condition '  ?  Sweating  math- 
ematics and  digging  into  law-books — he's  out  of  the  coun- 
try altogether." 

"  Yes  ;  but,  papa,  he  really  does  know  a  great  deal  about 
it.  He  has  studied  all  sorts  of  questions — land-tenure,  ten- 
ancy, rotation  of  crops,  and  political  economy— you  know." 

"Thank  Heaven,  I  don't  know!  Political  economy,  in- 
deed !  It  was  expressly  invented  for  the  benefit  of  the  Rad- 
ical party.  It  has  nearly  ruined  England.  What  ground 
has  political  economy  tc  int' rfcre  with  a  system  which  has 
existed  for  generations  and  hab  worked  so  well  ?  Wliy,  we 
have  hitherto  been  congratulating  ourselves  in  the  country 
that  we  were  exempt  from  the  evils  of  that  cursed  town 


^sii^apspK-=^i 


88 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


Unionism,  and  here,  by — by  Jove  !  it  has  broken  out,  of  all 
places  in  the  world,  in  my  parish  !  Never  mind,  we'll  scotch 
the  snake." 

"But  after  all,  in  your  heart,  dear  papa,  don't  you  think 
there  is  something  to  be  said  for  it?  I  don't  profess  to 
know,  but  Henry  says — " 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  what  Henry  says.  The  case  is  in- 
arguable.  In  fact,  I'll  tell  you  what,  my  dear,  if  Henry  Ew- 
bank  comes  here  instructing  you  in  Radical  and  revolution- 
ary principles,  I'll — " 

"  Hush  ! "  cried  Emily,  putting  her  hand  on  his  mouth, 

" Horsewhip  him  ! "  said  the  Squire,  when  he  could 

draw  away  the  pretty  teasing  fingers. 

Whereat  Ennly  laughed,  and  then  the  Squire  laughed ; 
and  so  the  disagreeable  subject  went  by.  Emily  had  re- 
ceived a  letter  by  the  afternoon  post  announcing  her  lover's 
arrival  on  the  next  day  from  the  Circuit  town,  but  just  then 
she  discreetly  said  nothing  about  it 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  MUSHROOM   HAT  ON   ITS  DEFENCE. 

Mr.  Leicester  went  heartily  with  the  Squire  and  the 
neighboring  gentry.  His  associations,  instincts,  and  educa- 
tion made  tl>is  natural.  Though  he  would  on  behalf  of  the 
Church  Missionary  Society  have  preached  with  fervor  from 
the  text  "  6"^^/ — hath  made  of  one  blood  all  nations  oj  meity* 
he  could  not  help  making,  in  feeling  and  in  practice,  an  in- 


THE    MUSHROOM    HAT    ON     ITS     DEFENCE.      89 


sensible  exception  from  this  doctrine  in  favor  of  the  English 
aristocracy.  His  sympathies  would  have  gone  down  to  the 
laborers  in  many  acts  of  kindness  :  they  never  went  out  to 
them  on  the  level  of  human  and  Christian  brotherhood. 
How  different  is  the  benevolence  of  patronage  from  the  fra- 
ternity of  genuine  charity  I 

The  Vicar  thought  it  his  duty  to  preach  a  sermon  to  his 
parishioners  on  the  topic^ — '■'■And  having  food  and  raiment, 
let  us  be  therewith  content."  It  rather  missed  its  aim,  since 
those  for  whom  it  was  meant  were  scantily  represented  in 
the  free  seats,  but  it  pleased  the  squirearchy  and  the  farmers 
who  formed  the  congregation.  They  found  their  own  ideas 
expressed  in  good  English,  and  backed  up  by  the  authority 
of  the  Church.  But  there  was  one  fly  in  the  ointment — that 
was  the  Curate.  His  conduct  at  the  meeting  had  much 
outraged  the  tender  sensibilities  of  the  Hankerley  farmers, 
and  became  the  subject  of  remark  from  Mr.  Byrton  to  his 
friend.  What  was  to  become  of  the  country,  what  was  to 
become  of  society,  what  was  to  become  of  them,  if  the  revo- 
lutionary projects  of  socialists  were  to  be  defended  or  even 
winked  at  by  the  clergy?  Outside  the  parish  there  were 
two  opinions  about  Mr.  Linkbo/s  conduct.  Some  of  the 
clerical  newspapers  employed  the  choicest  epithets  to 
characterize  his  interference  ;  others  of  his  own  color  seemed 
inclined  to  vindicate  him.  In  the  journals  of  heretic  Radi- 
calism however  the  High  Church  Curate  for  once  received 
applause,  Mr.  Leicester  deemed  it  his  duty  to  reprehend 
the  young  man's  boldness. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  argued,  "  there  are  many  points  about 


■pi 


90 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


which  you  and  I  are  very  seriously  at  variance,  but  which  I 
am  content  to  overlook  because  of  my  general  approval  of 
your  zeal  and  sincerity.  So  long  as  these  are  mere  matters 
of  conscience,  and  do  not  bring  the  Church  into  collision 
with  the  society  that  surrounds  it,  I  can  afford  to  overlook 
them.  But  if  you  step  beyond  this  to  interfere  in  a  purely 
social  contention,  or  throw  the  influence  you  have  as  a 
minister  of  the  Church  into  one  scale  or  the  other,  you  ex- 
ceed your  duty  and  place  both  yourself  and  me  in  a  very 
embarrassing  position." 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Linkboy,  "  to  hear  you 
seem  to  admit  that  the  office  of  peacemaker  is  departed 
from  Christ's  ministry.  Has  the  time  gone  by  when  we  shall 
be  called  the  children  of  God?  The  people  who  have  been 
complaining  of  me  must  be  infatuated  bigots  on  their  side  of 
the  question,  for  I  did  not  interfere  in  favor  of  either  party. 
I  interposed  when  there  was  danger  of  a  collision.  I  believe 
your  own  generous  spirit  would  have  led  you  to  do  the  same 
if  you  had  been  there." 

The  Vicar  winced.  He  was  the  very  man  to  have  done 
what  he  felt  himself  now  obliged  to  condemn.  For  that 
reason  he  was  harder  on  the  fault.     He  began — 

"We  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  matter — " 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  said  the  Curate,  "  I  seriously  dispute 
that.  I  think  we  have  a  clear  duty  in  this  matter.  I  have 
satisfied  myself  in  many  visits,  not  always  accepted  with  the 
cordiality  I  should  have  wished,  that  the  condition  of  these 
agricultural  laborers  is  a  shame  to  the  land  they  live  in." 

"  Yes,  that  is  obvious  to  us  all ;  but  I  must  take  leave  to 


THE     MUSHROOM     HAT    ON     ITS     DEFENCE.       9I 


=j«r 


say  that  undue  sympathy  is  more  sentimental  than  practical. 
The  condition  of  the  laborer  is  due  to  circumstances  we  can 
neither  control  nor  affect.  We  can  only  mitigate  it  by 
charity  and  proper  administration  of  the  Poor-law.  The 
age  resents  the  interference  of  enthusiasts  in  affairs  purely 
economic.  Our  mission  as  Christian  ministers  is  not  to  re- 
dress civil  and  social  wrongs  by  political  action.  We  must 
be  content  to  spread  the  leaven  of  the  principles  of  Christ." 

"  But  not  to  show  their  practical  application  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Linkboy,  warmly.  "  Oh,  sir,  I  cannot  so  read  my  duty. 
Conscience  carries  me  beyond  that." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  fetter  your  liberty  of  conscience  in  any 
way,  Mr.  Linkboy,"  replied  the  Vicar  ;  "  but  I  see  so  much 
danger  in  the  kindly,  though  mistaken  views  you  hold  on 
this  question,  that  I  am  really  forced  to  speak  very  plainly, 
and  to  say  that  I  cannot  assent  to  your  taking  any  further 
part  in  this  serious  quarrel.  Great  as  is  my  regard  for  you, 
any  further  manifestation  of  the  sympathies  which  I  now  see 
clearly  you  entertain  must  lead  to  consequences  painful  to 
both  of  us.  You  will  place  the  Church  in  the  false  position 
of  being  opposed  to  the  harmony  of  classes  and  the  estab- 
lished order  of  things." 

"  A  false  position,  sir  ? "  cried  Mr.  Linkboy,  with  indis- 
creet animation.  "  The  Church  and  the  world  are  natural 
antagonists.  What  if  the  harmony  of  classes  be  the  still 
monotony  of  death,  and  the  established  order  of  things  the 
mere  permanence  of  oppression  and  wrong  ?  The  kingdom 
of  peace  came  also  not  to  bring  peace  but  a  sword  —it  has 
no  truce  with  wrong,  and  sin,  and  evil-doing,  and  fraud." 


"Vts^' 


92 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


"  My  young  friend,"  said  Mr.  Leicester,  sincerely,  "  let 
me  caution  you  against  generalities.  They  dejitroy  many 
a  man's  balance  of  mind  and  impair  his  usefuln(;ss.  They 
are  so  plausible  and  often  so  inapplicable.  Christ  never 
came  to  set  class  against  class." 

With  this  triumphant  generality  Mr.  Leicester  brought 
the  interview  to  a  close. 


V 


CHAPTER  IV. 


A     NOAH'S     dove. 

When,  on  the  morning  of  Hodge's  flight,  Mary  awoke, 
she  wondered  why  her  father  had  left  his  bed  so  early. 
Then,  having  looked  out  of  the  window  and  seen  how  far 
the  sun  had  come  up  the  eastern  sky,  she  became  frightened 
to  find  that  she  had  overslept  herself  After  dressing  two  or 
three  of  the  younger  fry,  leaving  the  rest  to  scramble  into 
their  clothes  as  best  they  could,  she  came  downstairs  with 
Little  Hodge.  The  dispositions  her  father  had  made  struck 
her  with  some  surprise.  She  guessed  from  these  that  he 
had  gone  for  the  day.  Not  only  that ;  this  unusual  atten- 
tion and  the  small  packet  of  money  suggested  the  fear  that 
his  absence  must  have  something  to  do  with  the  conversa- 
tion of  last  night ;  but  she  cheered  herself  with  the  thought 
that  he  might  have  gone  somewhere  to  seek  better  wages  or 
to  get  some  assistance.  The  long  day  passed,  while  she 
swept,  and  scrubbed,  and  washed,  and  patched  away ;  and 
out  of  the  money  on  the  table  Tummas  was  able  to  get  the 


A  noah's   dove. 


93 


baby  some  good  milk,  so  that  the  household  was  not  so  cast 
down  with  the  loss  of  its  head  as  might  have  been  expected. 
In  the  afternoon  Mrs.  Nollekens  came  in  with  something  in 
her  hand  for  Little  Hodge,  ready  to  give  an  hour's  assistance 
to  Mary  in  reviewing  the  remnants  of  the  children's  clothing. 
Her  verdict  was  decisive. 

"  They  bain't  fit  for  gypsies  and  vagabones,  let  alone  a 
decent  family." 

*'  Fayther  do  say  he  can't  afford  to  get  we  any  more. 
He  do  feel  it  terrible.  He  went  away  afore  daylight  without 
his  breakfast.  Do  ee  think,  Missus  Nollekens,  as  he  have 
no  noshuns  about  hisself?" 

Mrs.  Nollekens  on  this  information  shrewdly  cross-ques- 
tioned Mary,  and,  though  she  kept  it  to  herself,  suspected 
the  truth.  She  put  it  to  her  own  mind  that  it  was  exactly 
the  course  that  coward  Tim  Nollekens  would  have  pursued. 
Her  heart  smote  her,  too,  for  the  terrible  suggestion  she 
had  made  to  Hodge  flashed  across  her  mind  and  made  her 
uneasy.  She  stayed,  however,  as  long  as  she  could,  comb- 
ing out  the  hair  of  all  the  children  with  a  vigor  and  con- 
scientiousness that  they  never  forgot,  and  left  the  whole 
family  improved  and  brightened  by  her  visit. 

That  night  Mary  remained  up  a  long  time  after  the  others 
had  gone  to  bed.  Through  the  long,  quiet  gloaming  of  the 
fast-coming  summer,  far  into  the  darkness,  she  sat  listening 
for  her  father's  step.  He  did  not  come.  She  carried  the 
baby  upstairs  and  lay  awake  on  the  bed.  In  the  terrible, 
protracted  silence  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  hear  a  great 
pulse  throbbing  in  her  ears ;  but  no  sound  disturbed  her, 


11 


mm 


94 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


and  by  and  by  she  fell  asleep.  In  her  uneasy  dreams  now 
and  then  she  cried  out,  "  Fayther !  Fayther ! "  but  the  dark- 
ness gave  no  answer.  Morning  came,  and  sunlight,  and 
the  opening  of  the  balm-breathing  lips  of  waking  summer, 
but  her  eyes  did  not  rest  on  the  familiar  form  heavy  with 
sleep. 

So  that  day  passed,  and  the  next,  and  the  next,  and 
Mary  and  the  neighbors  became  seriously  alarmed.  Nolle- 
kens  turned  round  on  his  wife  rather  sharply. 

"  Ay  !  ee  were  too  cruel  to  him !  Do  ee  recklect  how  ee 
told  him  to  cut  his  throat  ?  Maybe  he've  a  gone  and  done 
it.     Thoe'lt  have  him  laid  to  thy  chairge." 

Mrs.  Nollekens  gave  the  best  proof  of  her  remorse  by 
holding  her  tongue. 

On  the  third  day  the  news  had  spread  that  John  Hodge 
had  disappeared.  Mr.  Jolly  made  inquiries,  and  sent  for 
the  relieving-officer.  By  this  time  Mary  was  in  great  dis- 
tress. The  scrap  of  paper  now  covered  only  a  few  half- 
pence, and  the  clothes  problem  had  ceased  to  have  some  of 
its  terms.  On  the  fourth  day  the  relieving-officer  came  and 
examined  Mary.  He  was  not  consoled.  Eleven  children 
were  thrown  on  the  parish  as  clear  ai  daylight.  They  were 
destitute  of  food  and  clothing,  and  must  be  taken  into  the 
workhouse.  The  Union  Committee  of  the  laborers  how- 
ever, scanty  as  were  their  funds,  resolved  to  take  charge  of 
Mary  and  Little  Hodge,  and  Mrs.  Nollekens  received  them 
into  her  house.  The  rest  were  removed  to  the  Union, 
^feantime  a  large  placard  was  posted  about  the  country 
offering  a  reward  for  John  Hodge's  apprehension.     It  was 


A    NOAII'S    DOVE. 


95 


in  characters  large  enough  for  the  hue  and  cry  after  a  mur- 
derer. There  was  Scripture  text  for  treating  the  fugitive  as 
worse  than  an  infidel.  Mr.  Mce  procured  a  warrant  from  a 
justice,  no  other  than  the  Vicar  of  Hankerley,  to  arrest 
Hodge  as  "  a  rogue  and  vagabond,"  and  this  having  been 
duly  backed,  a  parish  constable  was  sent  off  to  other  coun- 
ties in  search  of  him. 

As  for  Hodge,  his  ideas  in  levanting  had  been  very  hazy. 
All  earthly  means  failing  him,  I,  who  know  of  his  narrow 
education  and  as  narrow  experience,  cannot  condemn  him 
for  his  distnist  of  Providence.  Providence  is  a  Deity  more 
preached  about  than  believed  in  through  the  country  dis- 
tricts, where,  with  ample  spiritual  teaching  in  theory,  there 
is  a  great  deal  of  practical  infidelity.  This  poor  man's  ap- 
peal to  Providence  to  bless  him  in  the  act  of  running  away 
from  his  family,  was  a  curious  display  of  the  mistiness  of  his 
mind  about  the  God  he  confessed :  a  notable  commentary 
on  the  beautiful  adaptability  of  an  Established  Church  to  the 
spiritual  requirements  of  the  age. 

His  immediate  intentions  in  getting  away  were  to  make 
for  a  seaport  town,  whence  he  fondly  imagined  he  could  get 
translated  to  Canada.  There  was  a  tradition  in  Hankerley 
of  a  former  Hankerley  man  who,  emigrating  to  Canada,  had 
made  a  fortune ;  and  this  local  historic  tale  so  strongly  laying 
hold  of  the  fancies  of  the  unlettered  people  among  whom  it 
floated,  was  a  proof  of  the  power  that  might  be  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  imaginations  of  our  rural  communities,  were 
there  an  official  class  capable  of  apprehending  its  issues  and 
willing  to  avail  themselves  of  its  aid.     This  then  was  the 


HI 


96 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


vague  idea  with  which  Hodge  started.  Two  or  three  days' 
walking  with  inquiries  of  the  way  to  London — which  he 
believed  to  be  the  nearest  seaport  town — brought  him  up 
with  a  grinri  question  :  How  vas  he  to  live  till  he  got  there  ? 
Here  and  there  kindly  folk,  answering  the  queries  of  the  sad- 
looking  man,  gave  him  help  along  with  information ;  but 
every  day  seemed  to  make  his  course  more  hopeless. 
Reaching  ot  length  a  county  town,  and  passing  wearily  and 
hungrily  along  its  main  str(  ct,  he  might,  among  the  won- 
drous sights  he  saw,  have  read  on  the  police-board  outside 
the  town-hall  the  proclamation  for  his  own  arrest.  But  he 
could  not  read.  As  it  was,  his  attention  was  called  to  it  by 
a  familiar  voice,  while  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder  ami 
Philip  Nokes,  the  constable  at  Hankerley,  claimed  him  for 
his  prisoner.  Hodge  was  so  beaten  and  broken-down  that 
he  never  said  a  word,  and  went  with  the  man  like  a  child. 
Philip  did  not  reproach  him ;  he  only  told  him  he  was  sorry 
he  was  obliged  to  take  him  back.  And  so  in  silence  the 
two  returned  to  Hankerley,  where  Hodge  was  secured  in  the 
lockup. 

* 

» 

CHAPTER  V. 

A  UKASE   ON  BRITISH  SOIL. 


Emily's  lover  arrived  at  P>yrton  Hall,  to  meet  a  welcome 
from  old  and  young,  excepting  the  Squire,  who  would  at  this 
juncture  rather  not  have  had  the  Tactious  young  Radical 
about  him.     Mr.  Byrton  felt  himself  nervous  and  irritable, 


w 


mm 


-«i^i(p-i 


A    UKASE    ON    BRITISH     SOIL. 


97 


and  doubted  his  own  ability  to  support  even  the  presence  of 
any  one  not  sympathizing  with  his  views  and  designs. 

He  had  caused  his  steward  to  issue  a  notice  to  the  tenants 
and  laborers  on  his  estate  declaring  his  hostility  to  the  Union, 
and  stating  that  he,  as  the  feudal  lord  of  the  district,  "  felt 
a  heavy  responsibility  with  regard  to  the  !iature  of  the  rela- 
ticns  existing  between  the  people  on  his  estates."  He  had 
"  v/bserved  with  pain  that  the  cordiality  and  goodwill  which 
ought  to  exist  between  the  laborers  and  bis  tenants  was  in 
danger  of  being  broken  by  the  interference  of  meddlesome 
agitators,"  whose  hostility  to  the  Throne,  Church,  and  Con- 
stitution needed  no  proof  "  Under  (sk)  these  circumstances, 
T  feel  myself  compelled  to  take  such  steps  as  shall  tend  to 
ensure  to  the  farmer  on  the  one  hand  immunity  from  the 
dangerous  practices  of  improper  combination,  and  the  la- 
borer on  the  other  hand  from  the  irterestv.d  schemes  of  Com- 
munists, Internationalists,  and  agitators.  With  the  view  of 
.  securing  these  things,  I  have  caused  notices  to  be  served  on 
all  those  laborers  who  hold  cottages  or  allotments  directly 
from  mc  that  their  joining  tne  Union  will  lead  to  their  evic- 
tion, and  I  invite  such  of  my  tenants  as  have  control  of  the 
cottages  on  their  faniis  to  co-operate  with  mc  in  enforcing 
this  rule.  In  this  way  alone  can  be  secured  a  supply  of  effec- 
tive labor  without  ruin  to  the  farmer,  nnd  v/ithout  embar- 
rassing the  kindly  relations  that  have  always  existed,  by  the 
introduction  of  principles  subversive  of  social  order  and 
economy." 

Young   Ewbank   read   this  paper  with  amazement  and 
chagrin.     It  was  not  merely  the  bad  English  that  he  dcpre 


98 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


cated.  He  implored  his  prospective  father-in-law  to  recall 
it,  but  received  for  his  j^ains  a  sound  rating.  As  his  own 
father  joined  the  Squire  in  his  proceedings,  an  appeal  to  him 
was  useless.  He  contented  himself  with  visiting  the  cot- 
tagers, urging  them  to  be  moderate  in  their  demands,  to 
avoid  the  pitfalls  of  Unionism,  and  to  adhere  to  their  present 
programn.i.  By  this  time  a  large  sum  of  money  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  Committee,  and  they  were  able  to  keep  in  tol- 
erable comfort  all  those  who  were  on  strike.  Moreover  the 
Squire  and  his  coadjutors  were  mortified  to  find  that,  angry 
as  the  farmers  were,  some  were  not  disposed  to  ruin  them- 
selves for  the  sake  of  a  principle,  and  that  in  a  week  or  two 
they  were  beginning  to  pick  up  Union  men  at  advanced 
wages  to  save  their  crops  from  disaster.  You  may  appeal  to 
men's  selfishness  to  act  with  you  up  to  the  point  at  which 
they  have  a  hope  or  a  certainty  of  profiting  by  the  co-oper- 
ation ;  but  let  a  stronger  appeal  be  made  to  the  same  point 
from  another  quarter,  and  they  are  likely  to  discard  princi- 
ples and  leave  you  in  the  lurch. 

♦ 

CHAPTER  VI. 

justices'  justice  and  statutes  at  large. 

Hodge  was  brought  up  at  a  Petty  Sessions.  The  Justi- 
ces were  no  other  than  the  Vicar  and  the  Squire.  In  rural 
life  society  interlocks  and  overlaps  in  an  amazing  way.  One 
justice  who  is  a  brewer  applies  for  the  licenses  of  his  public- 
houses  to  brother  justices,  who  may  be  connected  with  him 


/" 


justices'   justice,   etc. 


99 


by  marriage  or  may  regularly  hunt  the  country  with  him.  A 
tenant  may  prosecute  a  laborer  before  their  common  land- 
lord. In  the  present  instance  two  ex-officio  Guardians  were 
sitting  as  judges  in  a  case  wherein  the  Board  of  Guardians 
was  interested.  This  was  in  strict  accordance  with  an  Act 
of  Parliament.  Hodge  did  not  detect  the  anomaly.  He 
had  for  all  his  life  seen  these  gentlemen  adjudicating  on 
everything  that  concerned  his  class.  If  they  had  ordered 
him  to  be  hanged  he  would  scarcely  have  questioned  their 
authority. 

He  stood  up  in  the  Court-room,  a  grimy  man,  with  his 
head  bent,  his  eyes  red  and  watery,  his  hair  tossed,  his  feat- 
ures drawn  together  in  exquisite  pain — a  pain  to  look  at ! 
— a  crestfallen-looking  knave  enough.  The  Squire's  respect- 
able, healthy  face  looked  like  a  rouged  Si)hynx,  he  had  fixed 
his  features  in  so  hard  a  cast.  Mr.  Leicester's  teeth  no  lon- 
ger shone  benignly  towards  his  parishioner,  but  were  shut 
in  by  indignant  lips.  The  gentlemen  thought  that  the  man 
had  been  guilty  of  one  of  the  most  unmanly  acts  whereof  an 
Englishman  could  be  accused,  and  regarded  him  with  as 
much  sternness  as  they  would  have  felt  towards  a  poacher 
— and  that  is  saymg  a  good  deal. 

However  they  spoke  in  gentle,  quiet  tones. 

When  Hodge  looked  round  the  Court  his  ey  fell  on  Mrs. 
Nollekens  and  Mary,  the  latter  carrying  Liitle  Ben  in  her 
arms.  He  averted  his  glance  and  bent  down  his  head  still 
deeper.  He  did  not  notice  a  young  gentleman  who  sat  near 
the  dock,  in  a  place  devoted  to  legal  personages,  and  who 


lOO 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


seemed  very  uneasy.     Henry  Evvbank  was  fidgeting  about 
on  his  seat  in  a  way  that  attracted  the  Squire's  attention. 

Mr.  Mee  and  the  relieving-officer  appeared.  They  testi- 
fied to  the  fact  that  the  children  had  been  found  in  a 
shocking  state  of  destitution,  almost  without  clothes,  hungry 
as  sparrows,  and  apparently  quite  neglected.  In  the  course 
of  the  somewhat  desultory  evidence  given  on  these  points 
the  Squire  asked  the  relieving-officer — 

"  Is  it  supposed  that  the  prisoner  drank  ?  " 

"Well,  sir,  he've  generally  had  a  good  character  for 
soberness,  and  I  can't  say  nothing  agen  him  in  that  par- 
tikler." 

*'  Then  what  has  he  done  with  his  money?  " 

O  Truth !  from  the  high  just  Heavens  answer  for  him  to 
British  Justice,  IV/taif  has  he  done  with  his  money  ? 

"  No  one  don't  know,"  replied  the  functionary.  '*  He 
don't  seem  to  have  spent  it  all  at  home  from  the  look  of  the 
place." 

Here  a  shrill  small  voice  spoke  out  in  incisive  tones  that 
startled  the  Court — 

"Theer't  a  liar,  hossifer  I  Fayther  have  a  given  we 
every  penny  he've  earned  all  along.  He  don't  earn  no 
more'n  nine  shillin'  a  week." 

"  Ay  1  and  eleven  of  *em  to  take  care  on,"  added  Mrs. 
Nollekens,  in  a  curious  treble.  "  WTiat  do  ee  stand  there 
for  and  talk  such  nonsense  as  that  there  to  the  magis- 
.trates?" 

"  Silence  in  the  Court !  "  cried  the  Clerk.  Mr.  Leicester 
gently  reproved  the  interrupters. 


"T- 


JUSTICES'     JUSTICE,     ETC. 


lOI 


"  Is  this  his  little  girl  ?  "  asked  the  Vicar. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Step  forward." 

And  Mary  bearing  Little  Hodge,  whose  tiny  face  turned 
round  amused  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  alternately  on  the  Justices 
above  him,  came  to  the  front,  and  being  put  on  her  mettle, 
she,  between  questions  and  confessions  and  comments  of 
her  own,  told  the  story  of  Hodge's  life  for  the  last  three 
months,  Hodge  listening  with  his  face  in  his  hands.  The 
Vicar's  features  relaxed ;  the  Squire's  muscles  refused  any 
longer  to  affect  the  Sphynx. 

"  Fayther  ain't  done  nothing  wrong,  sir.  Ee  wouldent 
ha'  hurt  a  fly.  He've  a  been  away  trying  to  get  more  work, 
sir.  Don't  ee  go  to  punish  him  for  that,  sir.  It's  all 
along  o'  this  baby,  since  mother  died,  sir.  Let  him  off  this 
time,  sir." 

Mary  and  Little  Hodge  began  a  concert  together  too  dis- 
tracting to  be  borne,  and  she  was  led  for  awhile  out  of  Court. 
Had  the  case  ended  here  Hodge  would  have  come  off  lightly. 
Put  sensible  men  in  a  good  humor,  opposite  some  monstrous 
solecism  in  our  laws,  and  they  will  find  some  way  of  defeat- 
ing it.  But  the  prisoner  was  asked  by  the  Clerk  whether  he 
had  anything  to  say  in  his  defence.  And  then,  the  man  be- 
ing desperate,  and  his  whole  soul  within  him  raging  with 
combined  remorse  and  sense  of  wrong,  he  burst  out  *ihus: 

"  What  I've  a  got  to  say  in  my  defence  ?  Nawtkin'  !  1 
don't  care  to  defend  myself.  You  genlcmen  a  settin'  there 
've  a  knowed  me  all  my  life,  an'  there  ain't  a  soul  *live  can 
say  one  evil  word  about  me  afore  this  time.     I've  alius  lived 


I02 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


honest,  an'  I  meant  to  die  honest,  but  you'd  never  a  let  me. 
I  went  to  Varmer  Jolly — ee's  here  an'  can  say  so — an'  axed 
him  for  the  wa^es  I  'vere  righteously  a  earnin',  but  he 
wouldn't  help  me.  I  went  to  you,  sir,  snidyou  wouldent  do 
nothin'  for  sich  as  I.  'Twere  no  use  to  try  to  keep  myself 
and  the  childern  at  starvashun-pint,  were  it  ?  I  might  have 
a  made  out  to  muggle  along  if  so  be  Mister  Jolly  would  a 
rised  my  wages,  or  the  Union  could  a  kept  on  taken  care  o* 
this  last  poor  little  un,  till  sich  time  as  I  might  a  married 
some'un  to  keep  the  childern  tidy;  but  I  were  a  starvin, 
genlemen !  and  if  so  be  you  were  a  starvin  you  wouldent 
stop  to  think.  'Twere  no  use  for  I  to  try  to  manage  with 
all  they  childern,  and  do  a  day's  work  in  the  bargain,  on  the 
wittles  I've  been  a  livin'  on.  I  do  say  no  man  can  be  hon- 
est on  the  wages  we  be  a  gettin.  Till  sich  time  as  the 
Union  had  a  forced  the  farmers  to  rise  the  wages  there  wern't 
nothing  for  I  but  runnin'  away,  so  fur  as  I  see." 

"  What !  Are  you  one  of  these  Union  men,  then  ?  "  inter- 
posed the  Squire. 

"Yes,  I  be,"  replied  the  prisoner,  sullenly. 

"  If  you  please,  your  honor,  he  is  one  of  the  originators  of 
it,"  said  Farmer  Jolly,  thus  throwing  in  gratis  a  piece  of  un- 
sworn evidence.  Ewbank  squirmed  about  on  his  seat  most 
distractedly. 

"Quite  a  dangerous  character,"  said  the  Justice.  The 
two  constables  in  the  Court,  looking  gravely  at  the  broken- 
hearted Hodge,,  v^vinced  an  intelligent  acquiescence  in  this 
dictum.  "  A  dingerous  character  indeed  !  Deserting  his 
children,  and  a  Unionist !     (In  an  undertone.^     Well,  Mr. 


'l\ 


mm 


■■ 


mmm 


justices'   justice,   etc. 


103 


Clerk,  I  suppose  the  case  is  closed,  eh  ?  Guilty  by  his  own 
confession.  There  is  nothing  more  to  be  done  but  to  pass 
sentence  ?  ". 

The  Clerk  nodded.  He  had  been  looking  up  the  law  for 
the  Justices,  and  now  handed  up  the  well-worn  "  Burns  "  to 
the  gentlemen  on  the  bench.  A  little  colloquy  ensued,  in 
which  the  Clerk  took  part.  Then  the  Squire  cleared  his 
throat.  Young  Mr.  Ewbank's  uneasiness  increased.  He 
half  stood  up  and  seemed  about  to  speak,  but  he  sat  down 
again,  and  tlie  Squire  said  : 

*'  John  Hodge,  you  have  been  brought  before  us  charged 
with  an  offence  happily  rare  in  these  parts.  In  an  experi- 
ence of  five-and-thirty  years  as  a  Guardian  and  as  a  magis- 
trate, I  have  never  met  with  a  case  in  all  its  points  so  aggra 
vated.  I  shall  not  refer  to  the  fact  that,  by  your  own  admis- 
sion, you  are  associated  with  those  unprincipled  persons  who 
are  endeavoring  to  introduce  into  this  district  the  nefarious 
and  tyrannical  system  of  Trade  unionism.  On  that  I  say 
nothing,  except  that  it  is  an  indication  of  your  general  dis- 
position of  which  the  Bench  is  bound  to  take  notice.  But 
you  are  charged  on  behalf  of  the  Guardians  of  Coddleton 
Union  with  the  specific  offence  of  deserting  your  children. 
You,  the  father  of  eleven  little  ones,  whom  God  had  given 
you  to  nourish  and  cherish,"  said  the  Squire,  with  deep 
solemnity,  "  basely  abandoned  them,  and,  for  all  you  knew, 
left  them  to  perish  I "  "  • 

"  Oh,  naw,  naw,  naw  ! "  cried  little  Mary  from  the  door, 
in  shrill  passion.  "He  never  meant  to  do  no  harm  to 
wel" 


I04 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


"  Remove  that  person  from  the  Court,"  said  the  Justice  ; 
and  when  the  order  had  been  executed,  amidst  some  under- 
tone comments  of  Mrs.  Nollekens  and  wringing  of  hands  of 
poor  Hodge,  the  magistrate  proceeded — 

"  Now  the  law  is  quite  clear.  You  are  charged  before  us 
to-day — and  justly  charged — as  a  rogue  and  vagabond " 

Hodge  started,  and  the  fire  kindled  in  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  as  a  rogue  and  vagabond^  and  on  due  proof  to  be 
punished  as  such.  Under  the  Vagrancy  Act,  5th  George  the 
Fourth,  chapter  83 — *  Every  person  running  away  leaving 
his  wife  or  his  or  her  children  chargeable^  or  whereby  she  or 
any  of  them  shall  become  chargeable  to  any  parish^  township^ 
or  place — shall  be  deemed  a  rogue  and  vagabond  within  the 
true  intent  and  meaning  of  this  Act.^  This  is  a  salutary  pro- 
vision nearly  as  old  as  the  Poor-law  itself,  for  by  a  much 
earlier  Act  it  was  enacted  that  *  all  such  persons  so  running 
away  should  be  taken  and  deemed  to  be  incorrigible  rogues, 
and  endure  the  pain  of  incorrigible  rogues.'  Your  offence 
has  been  aggravated  by  the  nature  of  your  defence." 

— The  Justice  was  here  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a 
man,  whose  appearance  created  some  sensation  in  the  Court. 
It  was  Sammy  Stedman ;  and  Henry  Ewbank,  beckoning 
him  to  his  side,  engaged  in  an  eager  conversation  with  him. 

** — You  have  defended  your  course,"  proceeded  the 
Justice,  "  by  statements  both  untrue  and  intolerable,  and 
this  has  led  us  to  consider  it  our  duty  to  make  an  example 
of  you.  Your  sentence  is  that  you  be  committed  to  the 
House  of  Correction,  there  to  be  kept  at  h''»-d  labor  for  the 
space  of  six  weeks." 


■M^ 


justices'   justice,   etc. 


105 


"  O  good  Godamitey ! "  said  Mrs.  Nollekens,  in  search- 
ing tones.  "  You'll  suffer  for  this  !  An'  you,  a  parson,  a 
sittin  by  and  taken  part  with  him !  Sure  as  there  be  a 
God  above — "  Her  eloquence  was  dexterously  stifled  by 
the  big  hand  of  a  constable,  and  she  was  carried  out  of 
Court  in  an  attitude  of  vigorous  protest. 

It  was  then  that  Samu./  Stedman  stood  up  beside  young 
Ewbank  and  said,  bluntly — 

"  Hold,  gentlemen !  I  understand  this  whole  affair  is 
illegal.     You  have  no  jurisdiction  ! " 

"  Sit  down,  sir !  What  right  have  you  to  address  the 
Bench?" 

"  The  right  of  any  honest  Englishman,  your  honor,  who 
sees  an  injustice  about  to  be  perpetrated,"  said  young 
Ewbank,  unable  to  restrain  himself  any  longer.  "  The  man 
is  right,  sir.  The  Court  can  have  no  jurisdiction  by  the 
principles  of  Magna  Charta,  because  the  Justices  are  parties 
to  the  prosecution." 

The  Squire  was  livid.  He  made  a  tremendous  effort  to 
command  himself,  and  failed. 

"Henry,  are  you  mad?"  he  shouted.  "Sit  down,  sir! 
I— I— eh  ?  What  ?  "—to  the  Clerk.  The  latter  had  risen 
to  whisper  to  him. 

"  Sentence  has  been  pronounced,"  said  the  Clerk.  "  The 
jurisdiction  is  statutory,  Mr.  Ewbank.  Remove  the  pris- 
oner ! " 

The  young  barrister  had  fallen  into  a  serious  error.  His 
zeal  entirely  overran  his  discretion  and  exceeded  his  knowl- 
edge.    His  principles  were  better  than  his  law.     No  won- 


io6 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


n 


der.     He  might  well  have  believed  that  English  law  would 

not  have  been  disgraced  by  so  monstrous  an  anomaly :  he 

could  only  credit,  when  examination  had  proved  it,  that  on 

the  contrary  it  was  .xpressly  enacted.     Outside  of  London 

there  can  be  no  case  in  which  the  Guardians  are  concerned 

wherein    the    Justices    themselves,    who    are   all   ex-officio 

Guardians,  are  not  parties ;  an3  if  it  be  supposed  that,  as 

« 

Guardian  and  Judge,  the  Justice  is  equally  disinterested, 
one  needs  only  to  study  the  above  instance  to  convince  him 
that  a  person  who  has  already  decided  on  a  case  in  a  less 
responsible  and  more  informal  tribunal,  is  not  a  fit  person 
to  try  the  same  question  where  it  affects  the  liberty  of  one 
of  Her  Majesty's  lieges. 


IPD 


PART  IV, 


THE  CLIMAX  OF  DISUNION. 


CHAPTER  I. 


I 


A  WELCOME   HOME. 

Round  and  round  went  the  treadmill  with  diurnal  regular- 
ity, and  up  and  down  upon  its  urgent  steps  the  prisoner  at 
fixed  intervals  pursued  his  Sisypheian  task.  Round  and  round 
turned  the  great  wheel  of  Time,  and  up  and  down  went  the 
weary  feet  of  Poverty  upon  the  relentless  boards  as  they 
came  up  to  the  tread,  until  the  whole  head  grew  dizzy  aiid 
the  whole  heart  faint,  and  even  the  Angel  of  Hope,  last  of 
heavenly  things  to  be  lost  to  the  eye  of  Despair,  was 
blinded  from  sight.  Round  and  round  went  the  great  mill 
of  Labor,  and  behold,  strong  and  earnest,  weak  and  wicked 
ones  trod  it  side  by  side,  ever  moving  but  never  upwards, 
striving  sometimes  to  stay  the  fatal  motion  or  to  cast  them- 
selves down  from  their  bewildering  toil,  but  ever  finding 
their  feet  drawn  down  by  the  magnets  of  Necessity  and 
forced  to  plod  on  again  in  a  monotonous  mimicry  of  ascent. 
Round,  too,  went  the  wheel  of  human  Hope,  carrying  on  its 
circle  a  few  happy  yeomen  earnest  in  their  work,  who 
mounted  painfully  but  surely,  step  by  step,  towards  higher 
and  better  things.  Round  rolled  the  year,  bearing  with  it 
to  its  close  the  aging,  tiring  hearts,  minds,  and  bodies  of  the 


io8 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


t ' 


I 


great  world,  with  all  their  aggregating  griefs  ;  and  as  its 
hours  came  and  went,  there  was  poor  Emily  Byrton,  weep- 
ing, her  lover — no  longer  admitted  to  be  hers,  forbidden  the 
threshold  he  used  so  cheerily  to  cross — counting  the  hours 
with  palpitati'^ig  heart  and  secret  tears,  or  bravely  struggling 
to  master  a  grief  that  would  not  be  comforted.  For  the  day 
when  Henry  Ewbank  chose  to  give  way  to  his  generous  but 
inconsiderate  impulse,  he  had  received  from  a  servant  as  he 
left  the  court  a  hastily-written  note  in  the  Squire's  hand. 
It  warned  him  that  he  had  irremediably  forfeited  Mr.  Byr- 
ton's  confidence.  It  interdicted  any  further  intercourse  with 
his  daughter — "a  decision  which  I  communicate  to  the  son 
of  my  oldest  and  warmest  friend  with  deep  pain,  but  from  a 
clear  sense  of  duty.  Your  sympathies  have  run  away  with 
your  judgment.  Your  law  was  as  bad  as  your  act,  and  you 
have  made  a  fool  of  yourself."  Young  men  of  precocious 
abilities  and  natural  generosity  should  be  cautious  nowa- 
days to  carry  themselves  with  extreme  restraint.  'Xis  unsafe 
to  be  too  candid  in  political  thought.  Premature  disclosure 
of  ideas  and  sympathies,  however  right,  may  ruin  a  man 
long  before  the  time  has  come  when  it  is  safe  to  avow 
them,  yet  he  may  live  to  see  others  rise  upon  the  advocacy 
of  opinions  that  blasted  his  success.  Ewbank  was  too 
honorable  to  take  advantage  of  Emily's  devotion  to  him. 
He  bore  the  separation  like  a  man,  and  gave  himself  up 
with  renewed  energy  to  the  practice  of  his  profession. 

Round  and  round  went  the  mill  in  the  House  of  Correc- 
tion, and  round  rolled  the  great  wheel  of  Time.  We  will 
not  follow  John  Hodge  over  those  painful  steps 


A    WELCOME     HOME. 


109 


Indeed,  die  shame  weighed  him  down  more  than  anything 
else.  Meanwhile  Little  Hodge  and  Mary  thrived  under 
Mrs.  NoUekens's  care.  It  was  cleverly  managed  by  the 
authorities  that  Hodge's  release  from  the  House  of  Correction 
should  concur  with  the  return  of  his  family  from  the  work- 
house. When  he  had,  with  shamefaced  looks,  trudged 
home,  he  met  the  deputy  and  nine  of  his  children  at  the 
door  of  his  cottage.  I  wish  I  could  describe  the  meeting. 
The  officer  was  not  unkind.  He  had  brought  the  key  of  the 
cottage  and  some  food.     He  said,  however — 

"It's  now  your  meet  and  right  and  bounding  duty  to  take 
keer  of  these  young  uns.  Master,  and  don't  ee  go  to  evade 
it.  You'll  be  watched  pretty  close  now,  I  tell  ee,  so  don't 
ee  go  fur  to  run  away  again." 

Hodge  answered  not.  He  looked  dreamily  at  his  children, 
who  set  up  a  loud  and  bitter  cry.  It  scared  the  relieving- 
officer  away. 

The  decision  of  the  Justices  had  been  so  consistent  with 
the  general  course  of  English  law  as  to  be  the  least  utili- 
tarian and  most  expensive  result  that  could  have  been 
effected.  It  cost  the  country  near  upon  two  hundred 
pounds,  which,  at  Hodge's  rate  of  wages,  would  have  main- 
tained him  and  his  family  in  luxury  for  about  four  years : 
two  statements  not  necessarily  related  to  each  other,  but 
worth  making. 


mm 


1 


no 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


CHAPTER    II. 


THE  AGONIES   OF  SOLUTION. 

The  eyes  of  the  country  were  now  fixed  upon  the  struggle 
going  on  in  the  district  of  Coddleton.  An  old  system  was 
on  its  trial ;  and  in  truth,  it  had  been  rudely  shaken.  The 
State-in-which-it-has-pleasecV  Providence- to-place-you  theory, 
which  had  for  generations  determined  the  circumstances  of 
life  for  their  forefathers  and  fathers,  and  was  still  the  gospel 
of  clergy  and  squires,  was  found  to  be  no  longer  applicable 
to  the  case  of  Hodge  and  Little  Hodge,  and  the  Hodges  to 
come.  That  parental  or  patronal  relation  in  iigriculture, 
"so  unlike  all  other  relations  of  master  and  laborer,  and 
therefore  not  lightly  to  be  interfered  with,"  seemed  to  be  in 
danger,  and  not  to  be  the  eternal  institution  a  fond  bucolic 
faith  had  pictured  it.  Commercial  principles  were  pushing 
their  way  into  this  rustic,  romantic,  half-domestic  community. 
Hinds  were  asserting  the  right  of  combination.  Political 
economy  had  broken  loose  from  the  wicked  town  and  was 
wildly  careering  about  the  innocent  country.  Meantime 
the  Laborers'  Union  pursued  its  way  with  varying  success. 
Large  subscriptions  after  a  tune  enabled  the  infant  Union  to 
establish  itself  on  a  strong  financial  basis,  and  this  peculiarity 
in  its  formation  gave  it  additional  power  in  its  first  passes 
with  the  employers.  It  met  their  refusals  by  withdrawing 
men  and  sending  them  to  the  North  of  England  or  deport- 
ing then,  to  Canada  and  New  Zealand.  But  for  the  sim- 
plicity and  honesty  of  the  leaders,  these  funds  might  have 


■ 


mimm 


w" 


■appMH^ 


THE    AGONIES    OF     SOLUTION. 


Ill 


been  a  source  of  danger;  but  they  were  administered  as  if 
the  men  had  subscribed  them,  and  the  surplus  was  carefully 
invested.  Every  effort  was  mad(j  to  induce  the  members  to 
keep  up  their  subscriptions  through  the  summer,  Sammy 
Stedman  urging  upon  them  tne  duty  of  thrift  and  s,elf- 
restraint  in  preparation  for  the  winter.  He  had  anticipated 
that  then  the  farmers  would  find  some  practical  mode  of  re- 
venge. Thus  was  brought  home  to  many  men  who  had 
never  thought  of  it  before,  the  practice  of  economy  ;  while 
there  was  set  before  them  a  worthy  reason  and  object  in  its 
exercise.  The  value  of  this  lesson  was  long  afterwards 
evinced  in  a  variety  of  ways. 

As  harvest  came  on  the  lock-out  collapsed.  No  laborers, 
as  we  have  seen,  would  come  in  from  any  other  part  of  the 
country.  An  atteiiipt  to  import  Irishmen  failed.  China 
and  India  were  not  convenient  enough  to  supply  harvest- 
men  ij  outwitted  capitalists,  f To  government  would  have 
dared  to  intervene  in  the  dispute  by  supplying  soldiers  to  do 
the  work.  The  farmers  could  only  come  to  terms.  Wages 
went  up,  the  men  went  in.  There  was  coolness.  There 
were  muttered  threats  about  "biding  the  time,"  but  for  the 
present  not  a  man  was  evicted.  During  the  harvest  the 
farmers  admitted  that  their  work  had  never  been  better 
done.  They  found  that  the  increased  pay  had  wrought 
some  magnetic  change  on  the  hobbledehoys  of  last  year. 
Sammy  Stedman  used  Hodge's  case  with  great  art.  Hodge 
was  represented  as  the  first  martyr  of  agricultural  union. 
Litde  Hodge  became  a  proverbial  emblem  of  the  laborers* 
need  and  helplessness.     The  Rev.  Baptist  Bunyan  preached 


mm 


ira 


LlTTLii    liODGE. 


upon  that  tiny  mortal  from  the  text,  "  O  Lord,  how  long  ?  " 
immediately  exclaiming,  "  Twenty-two  inches  and  not  weigh- 
ing seventeen  pounds."  Mr.  Leicester  and  Mr.  Byrton 
were  terribly  scathed  by  Radical  journals.  The  Tory  papers 
eulogized  them  for  the  mettle  they  had  shown  in  an  age 
when  it  was  fashionable  to  truckle  to  the  democracy. 

The  Union  meanwhile  had  adopted  rules  to  regulate  strikes 
which,  had  the  employers  taken  the  trouble  to  read  them, 
ought  to  have  quieted  their  alarm.  Violence  was  forbidden. 
No  strike  was  to  take  place  without  a  month's  clear  notice ; 
and,  that  there  might  bt  no  temptation  to  take  unfair  ad- 
vantage of  the  necessities  of  liarvcst-time,  they  se' tied  that 
in  the  absence  of  notice  or  a  special  agreement,  the  rate  of 
wages  ruling  at  the  outset  of  harvest  was  to  hold  good 
throughout.  Th'^  number  of  hours  of  a  day's  work  was  fixed, 
and  overtime  was  to  be  paid  extra.  No  rules  were  adopted 
to  restrict  the  number  of  apprentices  or  to  limit  the  division 
of  labor.  The  most  arbitrary  provision  was  that  forbidding 
the  employment  of  women  in  field-work — a  rule  dictated  by 
a  healthy  sentiment,  but  certainly  not  consistent  with  per- 
sonal freedoiii.  On  the  whole,  the  association  when  calmly 
examined  was  simply  a  fair  and  not  injudicious  combination 
to  win  the  laborer  a  standing-ground  on  a  level  with  the 
wage-payer.  But  landlords,  farmers,  and  priests  chose  to 
ignore  all  these  elements  of  good,  and  clothed  the  innocent 
Union  with  all  the  terrors  of  Jactjuerie.  They  fought  a  myth 
that  did  not  exist,  and  themselves  raised  issues  the  others 
had  never  thought  of.  It  was  alleged  that  the  Union  would 
become  a  political  institution  ;  and,  indeed,  no  act  tending 


MM^HIliihawMMlHMMi 


^.i...^. 


THE    AGONIES    OF    SOLUTION 


"3 


to  convert  it  into  one  was  foregone  by  its  opponents.  The 
Church  was  said  to  be  endangered  by  tb.e  excitement  among 
the  yokels ;  and  in  the  result  the  yokels  began  to  consider 
what  that  meant,  and  to  accept  the  issue.  The  land  ques- 
tion was  averred  by  terrified  peers  and  squires  to  be  it  the 
bottom  of  the  agit£*tion  ;  and,  of  course,  the  tears  of  these 
persons  suggested  to  real  agitators  a  new  article  in  their  pro- 
gramme. Thus  the  obstinacy,  folly,  and  prejudice  of  one 
side  excited  the  passions  and  avidities  of  the  other. 

Coddleton  forthwith  absorbed  a  great  part  cf  the  amateur 
and  professional  managers  of  political  reforms.  The  puz- 
zled rustics  were  assailed  by  emigration  agents  :  they  were 
told  that  their  emancipation  would  depend  on  woman-suf- 
frage :  they  learned  that  unless  the  Outrageous  Distempers 
Acts  were  repealed  the  regeneration  of  the  agricultural  la- 
borer was  a  matter  of  uncertainty  :  they  listened  to  abstract 
essays  or  crude  diatribes  against  the  tenure  of  land  by  any 
private  individual  whatever,  and  dimlv  imagined  how  mat- 
ter, would  be  when  it  ^vas  all  administered  for  their  good 
by  an  impersonal  power  named  the  State  :  or  they  were  as- 
sured that  the  improvement  of  their  condition  was  intimately 
connected  with  the  downfall  of  the  Church.  Indeed  there 
was  no  "  movement,"  with  or  without  the  machinery  of  a 
league,  of  which  representatives  did  not  rush  into  Coddle- 
ton to  saddle  its  principles  on  the  coming  TJnion,  Much  as 
there  was  of  the  grotesque  in  this,  it  was  natural.  These 
people  had  been  shut  out  of  the  world  and  its  policies ;  now 
they  were  like  Joash  the  king—  an  infant  brought  out  uf  hid- 
ing to  take  his  part  at  ruling,  and  suddenly  called  upon  to 


8 


T« 


"^f 


114 


LITTLE      HODGE 


exercise  judgment  upon  unknown  conditions.  If  one  were 
inclined  to  blame  some  of  the  busybodies  who  did  not  re- 
member that  there  was  a  time  to  embrace  and  a  time 
to  refram  from  embracing  reforms,  as  well  as  lovers, 
it  should  not  be  overlooked  how  much  of  this  was,  as 
we  have  seen,  provoked  and  prompted  by  the  policy 
adopted  on  the  other  side.  A  manly,  candid,  generous 
treatmePc  of  the  Coddleton  Unionists  might  have  restrained 
both  parties  from  unnatural  hostilities,  and  have  prolonged 
the  safety  of  institutions  which  afterwards  trembled  in  the 
balance.  But  old  institutions  on  their  defence  are  often  as 
blind  as  Jacob,  without  the  same  method  in  their  blindness. 
Interveners  were  not  wanting  on  the  other  side.  It  also 
had  its  agitators ;  but  as  they  came  in  the  guise  of  Peers  and 
Ecclesiastics,  of  Baronets  and  Members  of  Parliament,  their 
whimsies  on  the  part  of  "law  and  order"  were  reported  in 
the  newspapers  and  approved  by  the  organs  of  the  Philis- 
tines. The  cleverest  pencil  in  England,  often  so  nobly  em- 
ployed, basely  lent  itself  in  the  interest  of  property  to  cari- 
cature in  the  grossest  manner  the  advocates  of  weakness 
against  injustice — and  humanity  against  selfishness.  What- 
ever represented  privilege,  property,  land,  ranged  itself 
against  the  Coddleton  Unionist^  and  their  friends.  The 
Bench  of  Bishops,  before  whom — as  vice-regents  in  the 
Church  on  behalf  of  Her  Majesty  and  its  other  Head  in 
Heaven — all  men  were  of  equal  standing,  afforded  a  few 
specimens  of  hierarchs  too  farsighted  and  too  piiilosophical 
to  hail  with  sympathy  an  effort  for  the  development  of  better 
earthly  conditions,  of  truer  freedom,  and  (more  serious  mat- 


THE    AGONIES    OF    SOLUTION. 


"5 


ter  !)  of  greater  power,  in  a  class  hitherto  looked  upon  as  the 
Heaven-ordained  slaves  of  property  and  the  least  trouble- 
some numerical  units  of  a  State  Church.  God  Ibrbid  we 
should  reprehend  these  ecclesiastics  unduly  or  assail  them 
with  malice.  Fortunately  they  did  not  wholly  represent 
their  Church.  They  chose  their  own  point  of  Church  de- 
fence, and  manifested,  no  doubt,  an  honest  idea  of  the 
Church's  position  and  duty.  If  any  one  or  all  of  them  pre- 
fer to  show  the  Church  banded  with  property  against  poverty, 
with  land  against  labor,  with  Manchester  economy  against 
social  science,  with  ecclesiastical  privilege  against  free 
thought,  surely  they  have  counted  the  cost  and  are  willing  to 
endure  all  things — even  the  formulation  of  their  views  by 
an  alien  from  their  commonwealth.  As  vicars  of  Christ, 
they  must  be  Accredited  with  sincerity  of  heart  and  purity 
from  the  taint  of  flesh.  If  to  a  spectator  there  seem  to  be 
something  ironical  in  their  situation,  it  is  of  their  own  choice, 
and  they  are  voluntary  martyrs  to  the  satire  of  facts. 

Mr.  Byrton  was  so  honestly  impressed  with  the  idea  that 
the  laborers  were  being  misled  by  interested  revolutionaries, 
that  his  activity  in  promoting  the  diffusioii  of  correct  princi- 
ples of  economy,  and  of  proper  ideas  of  the  relations  of 
classes,  was  unceasing.  A  Bishop  was  invited  to  stay  at 
Byrton  Hall,  and  lectured  the  men  of  Hankerlcy  on  the 
providential  dispensation  of  labor  and  the  superiority  of 
good-feeling  over  the  selfishness  of  good  wages.  His  rcdec- 
tion«  on  the  danger  of  agitation  were  crude  and  harsh.  Were 
I  to  report  what  he  said  it  would  not  be  believed.  He  was 
sorry  for  it  afterwards,  but  was  too  infallible  to  say  so. 


'<•>«   «• 


ii6 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


A  Peer,  celebrated  for  his  abilities,  deemed  it  to  be  his 
duty  to  speak  upon  the  question.  He  remarked  that  as  the 
laborers  had  formed  a  Union,  it  was  impossible  to  overlook 
the  fact.  He  therefore  urged  the  farmers  to  take  cognizance 
of  it.  He  pointed  out  that  there  was  nothing  illegal  in  com- 
bination, even  though  it  were  promoted  by  "  agitators," — but 
he  thought  these  ought  to  be  scotched.  He  also  laid  down 
the  principle  that  men  were  entitled  to  remuneration  for  their 
labor,  aiid  therefore  ought  to  have  it.  He  said  that  if  they 
asked  too  much  they  could  not  get  it.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  the  employer  offered  too  little  he  could  not  have  the  labor. 
"  Therefore,"  he  said,  "  you  see  clearly  that  there  are  inevit- 
able principles  regulating  these  questions,  and  they  must  be 
recognized  and  acted  upon.  No  other  solution  is  possible." 
Etcetera.  The  farmers  were  puzzled  to  apprehend  the  sim- 
plicity of  this  solution,  but  they  cheered  the  Peer  because 
he  had  the  reputation  for  conmion-sense. 

The  only  other  person  one  need  mention  is  Sir  Walter 
Waggington,  Bart.,  M.P.,  who  had  ulterior  views  not  easily 
justified,  and  somewhat  undefmed,  even  to  himself.  There 
never  was  so  kind  a  man  who  aspired  to  statesmanship. 
His  face  was  the  prow  of  a  radiant  and  smooth-sliding  State- 
gondola.  He  had  been  a  Tory  minister  :  he  was  now  a 
social  reformer.  No  man  was  so  eager  to  reconcile  the 
irreconcilable  and  to  win  a  Conservative  success  on  Social- 
istic principles.  He  was  in  favor  of  restricted  revolution. 
He  talked  enough  Communism  to  have  hanged  a  Commu- 
nist. He  had  discovered  that  the  age  was  progressive  :  he 
desired  that  it  should  progress  and  Toryism  triumph.     He 


s-^-.jbbbip' 


mmmmmtmmimim 


":m^- 


-¥% 


THE    AGONIES     OF    SOLUTION, 


117 


ascertained  that  the  working-man  •  had  hopes :  he  tried  to 
foster  them — they  lent  sunshine  to  a  dreary  life.  In  his  view 
every  laborer  should  have  a  cottage,  some  land  and  a  cow. 
He  objected  to  the  man's  claiming  it,  or  conspiring  to  get  it, 
or  trying  to  force  it  from  a  reluctant  class,  or  obtaining  it  by 
modifications  of  the  law  or  by  purcliase ;  he  desired  to  give 
it  to  him  by  Act  of  Parliament,  if  it  could  be  done  without 
interfering  with  the  existing  status.  True,  the  only  solution 
on  that  condition  was  the  reclamation  of  the  North  Sea,  but 
he  did  not  say  so.  Sufficient  unto  the  day  was  the  discovery 
thereof  The  amount  of  sympathy  that  the  genial  features 
and  timid  socialism  of  Sir  Walter  Waggington  drew  from 
*'  Constitutional  working-men "  was  marvellous.  If  cniel 
criticasters  in  political  economy  or  mde  and  incredulous 
Radicals  among  the  lower  orders  laughed  good-naturedly  at 
his  vagaries,  it  was  not  strange.  The  world  was  not  worthy 
of  him.  It  would  have  been  more  worthy  had  it  recognized 
his  claims  to  leadership  and  made  him  the  head  of  a  Minis- 
try. But  it  would  not.  Meantime,  even  in  adversity,  he 
was  the  manly,  good-hearted  gentleman.  He  said  in  his 
vague,  plethoric,  and  involuted  style  to  the  Hankerley  labor- 
ers : 

"My  friends,  happiness  does  not  depend  upon  wealth. 
Happiness  depends  on  something  far  higher — upon  a  thank- 
ful spirit,  a  contented  mind.  The  poor  man  possessed  of 
these  attributes  has  within  him  elements  of  happiness  which 
the  rich  man  is  entirely  destitute  of,  provided  he  does  not 
properly  discharge  the  duties  of  his  station.  In  my  belief 
(and  I  am  by  no  means  apt  to  exaggerate,  and  will  not  ask 


^•'wm 


urnpot^p 


."^W  "W 


Ii8 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


I 


you  to  overrate  the  blessings  you  enjoy)  the  laborers  have  no 
occasion  to  be  led  by  any  union,  or  to  be  led  astray  by  dis- 
contented agitators.  I  apprehend  that  what  they  mainly 
stand  in  want  of  throughout  the  country  are  three  things, 
namely,  better  education,  better  houses,  and  better  food. 
If  these  requirements  were  looked  to,  legislated  for,  and 
promoted,  the  laborers  would  cease  to  be  the  dupes  of  those 
who  fostered  a  spirit  of  discontent,  and  would  lead  far  better 
and  nobler  lives." 

All  this  the  laborers  enthusiastically  applauded.  And  this 
was  all  they  got  from  their  patronizing  friends.  The  Peer 
and  the  Bishop  and  the  Baronet  preached  contentment,  or 
cursed  agitation,  and  went  their  way.  That  rugged  old  Free- 
Churchman,  Republican,  and  Communist,  the  Apostle  James, 
measured  with  cruel  accuracy  the  tether  of  such  philanthropy 
as  this  :  /f  a  brother  or  sister  be  naked  and  destitute  of  daily 
foody  and  one  of  you  say  unto  them,  Depart  in  peace  ;  be  ye 
warmed  and  filled  ;  notwithstanding  ye  give  them  not  those 
things  which  are  needful  to  the  body  ;   what  doth  it  profit  1 


Hi  « 


CHAPTER  III. 


AN   ANTIDOTE  TO  PROSELYTISM. 


Farmer  Jolly  could  not  afford  to  do  without  any  of  his 
men,  and  consequently  for  a  few  weeks  there  was  plenty  in 
the  house  of  Hodge.  His  wages  of  sixteen  shillings  a  week 
enabled  him  to  get  Little  Hodge  looked  after  and  set  Mary 


«.•*- 


S?* '•*«(< 


AN    ANTIDOTE    TO    PROSELYTISM. 


119 


of  his 
inty  in 
week 
Mary 


free  for  the  gleaning.  Hodge  became  a  member  of  the  Union 
Committee,  wherein  he  developed  an  unexpected  amount  of 
good  sense  and  shrewdness.  Each  parish,  indeed,  had  its 
little  branch.  There,  for  the  first  time,  many  a  village  hind 
learned  the  art  of  public  business — an  art  in  its  dissemina- 
tion so  precious  to  Englishmen — so  essential  to  the  safety 
of  the  State. 

Mr.  Jolly  had  a  favorite  ploughman,  to  whom  he  gave 
sixteen  shillings  a  week,  and  who  had  hitherto  proved  deaf 
to  the  blandishments  of  the  Unionists.     He  was  a  man, 
however,  and   had   felt   some   sympathy  for   Hodge ;   and 
though  with  country  cunning  he  took  care  not  to  divulge 
his  opinions  to  his  master,  he  very  much  approved  of  the 
Union  movement.    When  Richard  Roe  saw  that  the  result  of 
the  combination  had  been  to  raise  the  wages  of  inferior  men 
nearly  up  to  the  level  of  his  own,  and  found  that  Farmer 
Jolly  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  re-establish  the  former  propor- 
tion, his  soul  was  vexed  within  him.     He  asked  himself  what 
had  been  gained  by  cutting  loose  from  his  fellows?     He 
had  been  told  that  the  Union  rule  would  be  a  uniform  rate 
of  wages,  but  he  found  that  Hodge  and  others  were  receiv- 
ing two  or  three  shillings  more  than  less  capable  men — in 
fact,  that  the  Union  had  driven  the  farmers  not  only  to  a 
general  rise  of  wages,  but,  as  a  result  of  that,  to  adopt  the 
principle  of  natural   selection,  and  to  pay  better  laborers 
higher  wages.     So  Richard  Roe  went  over  in  the  dusk  of  a 
September  evening  to  confer  with  Hodge  voon  the  thoughts 
that  burned  within  his  brain.     It  is  not  the  conversation,  but 
tlie  result  with  which  we  have  to  do      Roe  had  finally  de* 


""'"^IP'^PP 


I20 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


cided  to  join  the  Union,  and  was  leaving  the  house,  when 
he  saw  the  burly  form  of  Farmer  Jolly  getting  over  the  stile 
from  the  road,  and  coming  up  the  footpath  that  led  past 
Hodge's  cottage  to  the  farm-house.  The  farmer  had  been 
at  the  monthly  dinner  of  the  Hankerley  Agricultural  Club, 
and  was  not  only  primed  with  fresh  wrath  against  the 
Unionists,  but  with  bad  wine.  His  quick  eye  lighted  on 
the  familiar  form  of  his  ploughman  stealing  away  in  the 
gloaming  from  Hodge's  house. 

"  Hallo  !  D — n  it,  is  that  you,  Roe,  coming  from  that 
d — d  Unionist's  house?" 

"  Aye,  sir,  it  be  I." 

Jolly  ran  forward  and  seized  him  by  the  throat.  The 
gentleman  was  drunk  and  in  a  frenzy.  Roe  was  a  powerful 
man  and  was  not  drimk.  The  farmer's  hand  was  a  rude 
one. 

"  Be  you  goin  to  jine  the  Union  ?  "  said  Jolly,  white  with 
passion,  and  falling  into  the  vernacular,  as  he  always  did 
when  he  forgot  himself. 

The  fire  was  beginning  to  flash  in  Richard  Roe's  eyes, 
and  his  hands  began  to  twitch  with  a  terrible  nervousness. 

"  Leave  go  o'  I ! "  he  shouted,  half-throttled. 

"You  be  d — d !     Be  you  goin  to  jine  the  Union?" 

"  Yes,  I  be,"  said  Richard  Roe ;  and  drawing  back  his 
hand  he  drove  it  into  the  face  of  the  drunken  man,  who 
went  down  like  a  falling  tree. 

John  Hodge  could  just  discern  this  incident  from  his  door, 
and  in  the  stillness  of  the  night  heard  every  word.  He  saw 
Richard  Roe,  after  a  glance  at  his  prostrate  master,  walk 


111 


ARGUMENTUM    AD    HOMINEM. 


121 


away,  and  then  he  saw  Jolly  sit  up  and  wipe  something  from 
his  face  with  his  handkerchief,  at  the  same  time  cursing  his 
ploughman  and  Hodge  with  great  vigor.  He  ran  forward 
and  assisted  him  to  rise.  The  farmer  allowed  him  to  do  it ; 
but,  as  he  turned  towards  home,  he  muttered,  in  almost  un- 
utterable rage : 

"  Curse  you  !  I'll  pay  you  for  this." 


4c    i|c 


CHAPTER  IV. 


ARGUMENTUM   AD  HOMINEM. 

The  next  morning,  while  most  of  the  men  were  engaged 
in  the  stack-yard,  Hodge,  with  a  team  and  a  boy,  was 
ploughing  one  of  the  far  fields.  He  had  watched  the  sun 
from  seven  o'clock,  and  still  witli  patient  alternation  he 
drove  his  bright  share  through  the  fallow  in  regular  lines  up 
and  down  the  great  field.  At  about  ten  o'clock  he  saw  the 
familiar  gray  horse  of  his  master,  and  with  some  surprise 
recognized  on  its  back  his  master's  form.  He  watched  his 
approach  not  without  trepidation.  There  was  something 
sinister  in  the  air  with  which  Farmer  Jolly  directed  the  gray 
across  the  furrows,  looking  not  to  right  or  left,  and  making 
straight  for  tho  place  where  Hodge  was  ploughing. 

"  Stop  ! "  shouted  the  farmer. 

Hodire  drew  the  lines  and  took  off  his  felt.  In  his  hand 
he  held  the  plough-whip,  with  its  heavy  handle  loaded  with 
massive  rings  of  brass,  and  its  brass  cap  at  the  end — a  terri- 
ble weapon  in  strong  hands.     As  he  rode  up  Jolly  snatched 


^w 


■•WF 


"P« 


'V  •f«"<mM 


122 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


the  whip  from  the  clown's  grasp.  It  was  an  old  one,  and 
the  lash  had  worn  short. 

"  Hold  my  horse,"  said  he  to  the  lad. 

Hodge  saw  in  his  master's  face  a  frightful  resolution. 
There  also,  just  below  the  right  eye,  was  a  slight  gash  in  a 
setting  of  swollen  black-and-blue  that  told  of  the  severity  of 
Richard  Roe's  fist. 

"  Now,  you  d — d  coward,  I'll  show  you  how  to  push  the 
Union  on  my  farm." 

Down  on  the  man's  shoulder,  just  missing  his  bare  head, 
went  the  first  blow ;  down  on  the  soil  he  was  tilling  went 
John  Hodge.  The  farmer  had  clubbed  the  whip,  and  now 
up  and  down  it  rose  and  fell  on  the  shrieking,  prostrate  form, 
on  shoulders,  sides,  back,  arms  and  legs,  with  all  the 
strength  of  a  powerful  man  and  ill  the  weight  of  that  loaded 
weapon.  The  boy,  in  an  agony  of  fear,  let  go  the  horse 
and  ran  away.  Up  and  down  some  sixty  or  seventy  times 
went  the  strong  arm  and  the  loaded  whip,  till  the  arm  was 
weary  and  he  who  wielded  it  had  lost  his  breath.  Then  and 
only  then  he  stayed.  As  he  staggered  along  the  field 
towards  his  horse  tiv.  groans  of  the  beaten  thing  he  had  left 
behind  him  went  up  to  Heaven. 

*  * 
CHAPTER  V. 

THE  SCALES  OF  JUSTICE. 

It  was  Sally  NoUekens  on  whom  Hodge's  eyes  first 
opened  when  he  recovered  from  the  syncope  into  which  he 


LL 


THE    SCALES    OF    JUSTICE. 


123 


fell  soon  after  the  farmer  had  left  him.  There  too  were 
Nollekens,  and  Richard  Roe,  and  our  friend  the  doctor  of 
the  other  Union.  He  detested  the  new  Union,  but  he  had 
a  heart ;  so  that,  as  he  examined  John  Hodge,  his  blood 
coursed  through  his  veins  in  boiling  indignation.     Sixty-six 

definite  stripes  and  blows.     Here  on  the  back no,  I  will 

not  describe  it :  the  man  had  been  worse  treated  than  that 
deserving  ruffian  whose  punishment,  gauged  by  a  surgeon 
and  applied  with  scientific  skill,  has  excited  the  compassion 
of  amiable  sensibility.  Read  the  accounts  specially  provided 
for  public  edification  in  the  Electric  Meteor j  and  add  to  them 
blood,  and  wounds,  and  clothing  driven  into  the  skin,  and 
be  curious  to  know  no  more.  It  was  a  fortnight  before 
Hodge  could  walk. 

The  horror  and  detestation  created  by  this  incident  were 
a  credit  to  English  society.  Mr.  Leicester  several  times 
called  to  see  the  patient.  The  Squire  sent  regularly  to 
know  how  he  was  getting  on,  and  the  messenger  did  not  go 
empty-handed.  Emily  Byrton,  with  a  woman's  delight  at  an 
opportunity  of  freely  showing  a  forbidden  sympathy,  would 
be  found  in  Hodge's  chimney-comer,  nursing  that  deliciously 
small  baby,  or  reading  an  entertaining  book  to  its  father. 
And  (shall  I  tell  it  ?)  there  one  day,  quite  r.nexpectedly,  and 
so  very,  very  awkwardly !  came  in  Henry  Ewbank,  full  of 
generous  wrath,  determined  to  see  for  himself  how  far  buc"- 
lic  rage  nad  dared  to  go.  It  was  so  annoying  to  both  the 
young  peojjle  !  and  so  embarrassing  !  and  what  was  worse, 
that  stupid  invalid  forthwith  turned  round  and  went  to  sleep. 
And,  half  an  hour  after,  Emily  Byrton  is  breaking  through 


i« 


mmmmmm 


I- 


124 


LITTLE      HODGE. 


the  doorway  of  the  cottage  from  some  restraining  arms,  and, 
with  flushed  face  and  sparkling  eyes,  half  running  from 
temptation.  Well  might  the  Squire  that  evening  wonder 
what  had  brought  back  the  fresh  color  into  the  face  which 
had  been  latterly  paling  and  fading  before  his  eyes,  and  dis- 
turbing his  self-confidence. 

The  farmers  and  squires  repudia«:ed  Jolly's  conduct,  while 
they  said  they  had  no  doubt  Hodge  deserved  all  he  got. 
Slave-owners  in  America  were  wont  to  repudiate  the  *'  oc- 
casional "  acts  of  barbarity  which  distinguished  that  institu- 
tion. The  farmer  was  most  blamed  by  his  friends  fo-  having 
done  a  stupid  act  which  compromised  their  cause.  I  can 
credit  very  few  of  i/iem  with  sympathy  for  the  flesh  and 
blood  that  had  suffered  so  fearfully.  A  hundred  of  them 
would  have  done  the  same  thing  had  they  dared.  The 
humanity  of  men  is  generally  worth  little  if  you  throw  their 
purses  in  the  other  scale. 

Jolly's  lawyers  endeavored  on  his  behalf  to  settle  the  case. 
His  wife  did  her  best  to  make  up  to  Hodge  for  the  outrage 
committed  upon  him  by  her  husband.  Hodge  was  besieged 
to  accept  a  sum  of  money  for  his  broken  skin  and  lost  time. 
Great  as  was  the  temptation,  however,  he  resisted  it.  My 
man  was  no  hero.  I  believe  he  would  have  taken  the 
money  had  not  Sammy  Stedman  and  Henry  Ewbank 
buckled  him  up,  and  but  that  the  Unionists  agreed  to  make 
it  good  to  him.  The  end  of  the  matter  was  instructive  to 
the  student  of  English  life,  society,  and  law.  The  case  came 
on  at  a  Petty  Sessions.  Mr.  Leicester  stayed  away.  The 
Squire  attended.     Two  other  landlords  were  on  the  bench. 


'■ik,^^ 


mmmm 


i^ 


THE    SCALES    OF    JUSTICE. 


125 


Henry  Ewbank,  retained  by  the  Union  solicitor  brought 
from  London,  since  no  attorney  in  the  neighborhood  would 
take  the  case,  appeared  for  the  complainant.  Farmer  Jolly 
needed  no  counsel.  It  was  si  rht  to  get  the  respondent 
committed  for  "  unlawful  wounding,"  an  offence  that  would 
have  taken  his  case  to  the  Assizes,  and  might  have  procured 
him  one  or  two  years'  penal  servitude.  The  P-^nch,  how- 
ever, deciding  that  Mr.  Jolly's  intention  had  been  merely  to 
give  a  beating  with  a  whip,  and  not  to  injure  the  man,  and 
consequently  that  it  was  a  case  of  common  assault,  in  which 
they  had  summary  jurisdiction,  fined  Mr.  Jolly  in  the  full 
penalty  of  five  pounds. 

On  the  same  day,  in  the  same  court,  before  the  same  Jus- 
tices, was  heard  the  case  of  the  Queen  v.  Roe,  in  which 
Hodge  was  called  as  a  witness.  Richard  Roe  stood  on  his 
defence  for  that  he,  being  a  serf,  had  violently  beaten  and 
assaulted  his  master.  It  was  considered  an  aggravation  of 
his  offence  that  he  alleged  and  proved  his  master's  drunken- 
ness— a  reason,  so  the  Bench  held,  why  he  ought  to  have  re- 
spected Jolly's  weakness.  He  was  sentenced  to  a  fortnight's 
imprisonment  without  the  option  of  a  fine.  The  Bench  de- 
clared that  it  was  necessary  for  the  public  safety  to  put  down 
the  mutinous  spirit  arising  among  the  laborers  in  the  county. 

O  Heaven  !  whore  meek  eyed,  pure-eyed  holy  Justice  sits 
enthroned,  looking  down  on  these  sad  travesties  of  her  ad- 
ministration, remember  and  pity  our  imbecile  humanity,  and 
lay  not  these  things  to  our  charge  I 

V 


t,^ 


^^ipi 


■•»'  "  w 


126 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


ALARUMS. — EXCURSION  S. 


The  harvest  was  now  over.  The  great  stacks  of  corn, 
and  oats,  and  hay  loomed  up  in  helds  or  barnyards,  noble  in 
their  proportions,  and  gladsome  to  the  farmers'  eyes.  The 
click  and  burr  of  the  threshing-machines  or  the  thud  of  the 
flail  on  the  threshing-floor  sounded  in  every  part  of  the  dis- 
trict. Then  the  early  frosts  began  to  nip  the  vegetation. 
Then  beg^n  the  clothing  of  the  October  trees  to  IUj\  «iad 
scatter  about,  and  the.  changing  rags  hung  brown  and  shriv- 
elled, till  the  cruel  winterly  winds  tore  them  from  the  limbs 
and  sprays,  and  sent  them  in  mottled  clouds  driving  through 
the  gaunt  woods  or  stripped  copses — now  whirling  over 
lawns  and  meadows,  now  cosily  loitering  awhile  in  great 
heaps  wherever  the  whimsical  wind  would  let  them  rest ;  till 
by  and  by  it  would  change  its  mind  and  come  roaring  round 
from  some  new  quarter,  and  blowing  straight  into  the  se- 
questered nooks,  scattered  the  brown  feathers  all  over  the 
face  of  the  land.  So  forward  towards  November,  with  al- 
ternate days  of  cold  clear  sunshine  and  of  dismal  storm, 
dark  fog-ridden  nights,  angry  winds,  and  the  vicious  frosts 
that  heralded  the  chilling,  killing  time  to  come.  Ah  !  then 
it  was  that  Poverty  and  Labor,  iiuddled  together,  sat  shud- 
dering to  think  that  the  warm,  blessed  Summer  was  at  ai. 
end,  as  they  looked  out  on  bleak  heavens  and  a  bleaker 
earth,  vainly  searching  in  the  cload-curtained  sky  for  one 
gleam  of  the  star  of  hope  I 


iili 
■! 


1^4 


JL 


"W^ 


ALARUMS.  — EXCURSIONS. 


127 


It  was  then  that  the  farmers  began  to  draw  their  lips  to- 
gether, and,  counting  how.  much  the  rise  in  wages  had  cost 
them,  felt  inclined  to  give  play  to  the  resentment  they  had 
so  long  been  forced  to  suppress.  The  Squire's  policy  was 
adopted.  Evictions  were  frequent,  sometimes  cruel ;  but 
they  were  for  Dme  time  met  with  decis'/^  action  on  the  part 
of  the  Union.  The  evicted  were  at  once  drafted  off  to  other 
places — many  to  the  Colonies.  These  were  some  of  the 
best  men  in  the  district,  and  they  never  returned.  "  If  you 
must  have  more  wages,"  the  farmers  said,  "  we  cannot  pay 
them  all  the  year  round.  We  shall  do  without  as  many  as 
we  can  through  the  winter.  We  shall  keep  the  best  of  you, 
and  take  the  others  only  when  we  want  them."  This  was  a 
bad  lookout  for  the  rest,  but  it  was  a  natural  policy  and 
could  not  be  gainsayed.  Others  talked  of  turning  chcir  farms 
to  grass,  whereby,  as  they  alleged,  they  should  be  able  to 
manage  with  fewer  hands ;  but,  since  the  altfirnative  was 
the  purchase  of  stock  to  grow  on  the  grass,  the  change  re- 
quired a  good  deal  of  capital.  This  made  the  general  ap- 
plication of  the  remedy  for  the  present  impossible.  Farmer 
Jolly,  after  what  had  happened,  was  ashamed  to  turn  out 
Hodge.  But  he  strongly  approved  of  the  evictions.  Poor 
Mr.  Truscott  felt  more  angry  than  his  neighbors,  because  in 
face  of  the  rise  of  wages  bankruptcy  was  inevitable.  That 
such  a  result  must  oft  t.-n  ensue  from  many  movements  where- 
in the  interests  of  men  clasji — wherein  some  superior  ad- 
vantage of  one  cln^s  01  clique  over  another  is  in  the  course 
of  redress,  is  very  clear ;  but  would  it  not  be  poor  wisdom 
to  argue  on  such  an  account  that  a  great,  beneficent  opera- 


mt^^mt 


m 


,,^. 


128 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


tion  should  be  foregone  in  behalf  of  the  few  weak  and  un- 
fortunate ones  whom  it  must  destroy  ?  Those  who  urged 
that  they  could  not  afford  to  pay  the  rate  of  wages  demanded 
by  the  Unionists,  or  that  they  would  be  ruined  by  the  in- 
creased cost  of  labor,  were  simply  putting  in  an  ad  miseri- 
cordiam  plea  for  labor  below  the  market  price.  'Twould  be 
as  reasonable  to  ask  the  Bank  of  England  not  to  raise  its 
rate  of  discount  because  weak  speculators  and  struggling 
merchants  were  likely  to  be  ruined  by  it.  The  bucolic  econ- 
omists who  referred  in  defence  of  low  wages  to  the  all-power- 
ful influence  of  the  law  of  supply  and  demand,  could  with 
little  consistency  contend  that  the  law  must  be  made  subser- 
vient to  the  capacity  of  some  men,  or  a  class  .of  men,  to 
carry  on  remunerative  agriculture  at  anything  but  a  low 
standard  of  wages :  any  more  than  merchants  should  protest 
against  high  rates  of  discount  because  they  rendered  profits 
precarious. 

However,  right  or  wrong  in  their  political  economy,  the 
farmers  were  agreed  in  their  determination  to  fight  the  La- 
borers' Union.  But  in  their  present  tactics  some  of  their 
allies  deserted  them.  The  Church  would  lend  itself  to  the 
defence  of  privilege,  but  not  to  cruelty  and  oppression. 
The  Vicar  of  Hankerley  had  of  late  been  seriously  debating 
with  himself  his  line  of  conduct  on  this  social  question.  Mr. 
Linkboy,  watching  his  opportunities,  often  mentioned  facts 
coming  to  his  notice,  which  made  the  Vicar  uneasy  about 
the  justice  of  the  side  he  had  so  ardently  espoused.  He 
grew  very  cool  in  his  sympathy  with  the  Squire,  who,  having 
sacrificed  a  son-in-law  to  his  prejudices,  was  bound  to  be 


f 


wmmm. 


A     VISITOR. 


129 


Stubbornly  vindictive.  When  Farmer  Jolly  committed  the 
outrage  on  poor  Hodge  Mr.  Leicester's  generous  manliness 
burst  out.  He  boldly  went  to  Jolly's  house,  and  reproved 
him  with  a  vigor  so  earnest  and  terrible  that  the  farmer 
trembled.  Coming  from  the  parson's  suave  and  gentle  lips, 
the  words  were  like  Jcnives.  Jolly  was  cowed  by  them, 
though  he  was  not  cured.  Moreover,  Mr.  Leicester  went 
so  far  as  to  express  opinions  not  complimentary  of  the  judic- 
ial finding  in  the  Hodge  and  Roe  cases.  The  Squire  and 
he  would  have  fallen  out  if  such  old  friends  could  have 
quarrelled. 

CHAPTER  vn. 


A  VISITOR. 

One  afternoon  the  Vicar  and  his  Curate  were  engaged  in 
the  Vicarage  parlor  on  some  matters  connected  with  the 
Church,  when  their  attention  was  drawn  to  the  window  by 
the  sound  of  wheels.  A  gig,  familiar  at  the  Coddleton  sta- 
tion, some  seven  miles  off,  was  coming  up  the  drive,  carry- 
ing besides  the  driver  a  person  who  would  have  attracted  re- 
mark equally  at  Ujiji  and  on  the  boulevards  at  Paris.  His 
extreme  length — a  better  mode  of  characterizing  his  apix^ar- 
ance  than  to  speak  of  his  height— was  not  modified  by  any 
proportionate  stoutness.  Nevertheless,  the  spectator  was 
left  to  guess  as  to  the  real  anatouiy  of  the  man,  and  a  clear 
judgment  thereon  was  mucli  confounded,  from  the  fact  that 

his  clothes  seemed  to  have  been  constructed  to  fit  a  body 
9 


I30 


LITTLE      HODGE. 


of  prodigious  bulk ;  whence  one  was  apt  :o  conjec- 
ture that  the  visitor  came  of  a  gigantic  stock,  whose  gar- 
ments he  wore,  though  he  was  himself  but  an  imperfectly 
developed  specimen.  His  brown  face  was  cracked  and 
wrinkled  like  a  raised  m  p  of  Switzerland,  the  cracks  and 
wrinkles  looking  as  rigid  as  a  plaster  cast  until  some  inner 
secret  convulsion  set  the  whole  in  motion,  when  the  play  of 
electric  expression  all  over  his  curious  fretwork  of  features 
was  a  sight  ever  to  be  remembered.  From  a  very  large 
head  fell  in  long,  straight  locks  a  quantity  of  grayish  hair, 
and  an  Imperial  of  the  same  shade  tipped  the  lower  end  of 
his  protracted  face.  His  eyes,  quick,  searching,  restless  as 
those  of  a  hawk,  played  in  the  great  cavities  that  lay  between 
the  heavy  gray  eyebrows  and  the  high  cheek-bones,  with 
startling  and  magnetic  power. 

This  gentleman,  we  should  mention,  had  been  whiling 
away  the  time  in  a  conversation  with  the  driver,  who  re- 
marked that  as  they  went  along  his  fare  took  frequent  notes. 
He  also  observed  with  surprise  that  the  gentleman  seemed 
intimate  with  the  locality,  though  he  was  sure  'twas  a  "fur- 
riner,"  and  equally  sure  that  he  had  never  been  seen  in 
those  parts  before. 

"  Ah ! "  had  the  fare  said,  as  they  drove  into  Hankerley, 
"  this  is  Hankerley  !  This,  sir,  if  I'm  a  true  prophet,  is  the 
cradle  of  liberty  to  the  down-trodden  serfs  of  your  country. 
From  this  spot  the  trumpet  has  blown  to  call  the  slaves  of 
toil  to  resurrection.     Yes,  sir / " 

The  driver  became  painfully  interested.  He  held  an  un- 
certain theory  about  his  fare's  sanity. 


^^^K 


Sib. 


A    VISITOR. 


131 


"  Now,"  said  the  gentleman  again,  standing  up  six  feet 
three  in  the  gig,  as  they  reached  the  middle  of  the  sprawling 
street  of  shops,  houses,  and  cottages  constituting  the  village, 
and  taking  such  a  survey  of  the  country  as  a  peripatetic 
semaphore  might  have  been  expected  to  accomplish,  "  I 
must  first  see  the  little  individooal  vho  is  the  cause  of  all 
this  muss.  Then,  just  for  curiosity,  I  want  to  lay  my  eyes 
once  on  that  onhandsome  skunk,  Nicholas  Jolly,  if  the  Devil 
hasn't  taken  a  fancy  to  import  him  into  his  do-minions  to  be 
his  executioner.  And  I  guess  I'm  bound  to  see  Samuel 
Stedman,  the  greatest  man  of  the  age,  sir,  next  to  John 
Bright  of  Birmingham  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher  of  Brooklyn. 
And  I've  chalked  out,  if  God  spares  me  twenty-four  hours, 
to  have  intervoos  with  Mr.  Byi  ton,  the  great  land-owner,  and 
the  Reveiend  Winwood  Leicester,  Master  of  Arts — (he  was 
reading  from  his  memoranda) — and  give  then:  the  o-pinion 
of  an  American  citizen  on  this  crisis  in  the  history  of  this  de 
caying  old  state.     Then  I  guess  I'll  travel." 

As  the  American  had  vented  these  designs,  his  great  body 
and  limbs  moved  about  within  his  extravagant  garments 
with  mysterious  excitement.  The  driver  was  more  aston- 
ished than  ever.  They  first  saw  Hodge  and  the  baby,  whom 
the  stranger  embraced,  and  could  with  difficulty  refrain  from 
purloining.  He  said  *tif  he  had  hmi  at  Mount  Napoleon 
he  guessed  he'd  lengthen  that  young  cricket's  cords  and 
strengthen  his  stakes  to  an  all-fired  extent."  The  stranger's 
hat  suffered  severely  in  the  low  cottage,  and  his  head  did 
not  come  off"  scatheless,  However,  he  succeeded  in  getting 
"  one  first-class  bump,  which  he  reckoned  he'd  keep  till  he 


mmm 


132 


LITTLE      HODGE. 


got  home,  to  show  American  children  how  their  brothers 
and  sisters  Hved  in  Old  England."  Leaving  Hodge  a  bun- 
dle of  books  and  tracts  on  prison  discipline  and  other 
schemes  of  philanthropy  in  America,  and  having  failed  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  Jolly,  here  was  the  stranger  at  the  Vicar- 
age door,  drawing  his  huge  length  out  of  the  gig.  He  sent 
in  a  card.     On  it  were  printed  these  words  : 


JEHOIACHIN  SETTLE. 

Boys*  and  Girls'*  Translation  Institute^ 
Mount  Napoleon^  Cayuga  Coy.^  N".  Y. 


When,  by  the  Vicar's  directions,  he  was  shown  into  the 
parlor,  the  stranger's  %ce  broke  into  a  grotesque  smile  as  he 
saw  Mr.  Linkboy,  whose  clerical  garments  first  attracted  his 
eye. 

"I  pre-soome  I'm  addressing  the  Reverend  Winwood 
Leicester,  Master  of  Arts  ?  " 

Being  referred  to  the  right  person,  he  said — 

-'  Well,  sir,  excoose  my  blunder,  which  was  a  nateral  one, 
seeing  I  didn't  know  one  of  you  gentlemen  from  another, 
and  neither  of  you  from  Adam.  Sir^  I've  come  to  you  on 
an  errend  of  hu-manity  !     Shake  hands." 

Mr.  Leicester  with  quiet  gravity  proffered  his  hand,  and 
begged  the  visitor  to  be  seated. 

"  I  have  brought  no  letter  of  introduction  to  you,  sir,  be- 
cause in  my  o-pinion  one  human  being  don't  require  intro- 
ducing to  another,  and  hadn't  ought  to.     You'll  see  by  my 


wmmm 


A    VISITOR 


T^33 


card,  sir,  that  I'm  engaged  in  the  service  of  humanity. 
I  board,  lodge,  feed,  dress,  educate,  bind  out,  marry, 
settle,  and  save  from  drink,  crime,  an^i  damnation,  the 
souls  and  bodies  of  three  thotijand  five  hundred  children 
in  the  State  of  New  York  an.iooally.  If  that  ain't  an  intro- 
duction to  }'0u,  sir,  I  renounce  hu-manity." 

Mr.  I^eicester,  entering  into  the  humor  of  the  situation, 
assured  the  stranger  that  it  was  a  claim  on  his  goodwill  he 
could  not  reject. 

"  Sir,  in  the  course  of  a  tower  to  examine  the  institooshuns 
of  E[i-rope,  I've  come  to  be  acquainted  threw  your  daily 
press  with  the  case  of  Little  Hodge  and  his  father  down 
here  in  ycur  parish  of  Hankerley,  of  which  I  o-pine  you  are 
Lord  Rector  ?  " 

Mr.  Linkboy  and  the  Vicar  could  not  refrain  from  laugh- 
ing, and  then  hastened  to  apologize. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  tell  you  candidly  I'm  not  versed  in  your 
English  hierarchical  institooshuns,  but  I  believe  I'm  right  in 
saying  you're  a  professed  minister  of  the  Lord  in  these 
parts,  and  I  pre-soome  take  an  interest  in  the  regeneration 
of  the  world  ?  .  .  .  .  Then,  sir,  I  have  constitooted  myself  a 
committee  of  one  for  the  American  nation,  to  inform  you  of 
the  brotherly  interest  we  take  in  the  solution  of  your  great 
social  problems,  and  to  give  you  the  result  of  our  experience 
as  a  new  country.  Sir,  you  will  excoose  my  remarkmg  that 
since  I  came  into  your  country  a  fortnight  since  I've  ob- 
served among  your  people  one  universal  delooshun.  Your 
people,  sir,  cling  to  ancient  idees.  You  worship  the  Past — 
I  s'pose  it's  because  you  have  a  Past  to  worship.     We,  sir, 


^m 


134 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


the  American  nation,  having  no  Past  to  worship,  are  forced 
to  worship  the  Present  and  the  Future,  and  I  guess  we  find, 
with  all  our  energy,  and  we  con-ceit  we're  putty  spry  folk, 
we  have  none  to  spare  for  anything  else." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  Vicar,  who  feared  that  his 
guest  would  wander  endlessly  in  the  regions  of  the  abstract, 
and  anxious  to  bring  him  to  the  practical ;  "  has  this  any- 
thing to  do,  sir,  with  the  object  of  your  visit  ?  I  am  much 
engaged." 

"Yes,  sir/"  exclaimed  the  visitor,  starting  up  and  navi- 
gating the  room  with  extraordinary  skill  and  vivacity.  "  It 
has  to  do,  I  reckon,  with  the  question  whether  you're  a  go- 
ing to  let  this  grand  old  country  go,  as  the  great  Carlyle 
said  of  my  country,  over  Niagary  Falls,  while  you  are  wor- 
shipping, and  coddling,  and  dry-nursing  the  old,  wilted, 
bloodless,  brainless,  e-masculated  relics  of  a  con-dition  of 
so-ciety  God  Almighty  must  abolish  for  the  benefit  of  man- 
kind ;  or  whether  you  will  turn  your  faces  to  the  Sun  of  the 
Future,  with  its  grand,  glorious,  and  e-ternal  hopes  of  bless- 
edness and  deliverance." 

The  visitor  delivered  himself  of  this  passage  with  a  solem- 
nity and  emphasis  that  would  have  been  effective  in  a  great 
public  meeting. 

The  Vicar  was  puzzled  what  to  do  with  his  visitor.  He 
offered  him  a  glass  of  wine. 

"  No,  siriee  !  not  for  Je-hoiachin  Settle,  I  guess,  while  he's 
Jiving.  Sir,  that  pison  never  passes  my  lips.  I'm  a  Tem- 
perance lectoorer,  and  Grand  Master  of  the  Jonadab  Lodge 
of  Cayuga  Rechabites."  *         ' 


A    VISITOR. 


135 


"  Then  I  beg  you  will  let  me  know,"  said  Mr.  Leicester, 
"  how  I  can  serve  you  ?  " 

"  Serve  me,  sir !  Serve  ain't  an  American  word,  sir,  since 
Abraham  Lincoln  abolished  slavery.  We  neither  give  nor 
take  service  in  my  country.  No,  j/r,  I  require  nothing  at 
your  hands.  I  came  to  see,  sir,  if  I  could  help  you.  1 
reckon  your  folks  hereaway  are  about  facing  the  problem 
of  the  age,  though  you  on  the  spot  mayn't  be  'cute  enough 
to  see  it.  Yes,  sirree !  The  miserable  creeturs  you  call 
agricul-tooral  laborers  are  beginning  to  wake  up  to  the  moosic 
of  Freedom,  and  the  situation  reminds  me  of  i.n  old  hen  I 
once  had  on  my  farm  in  Cayuga  County.  Sir,  she'd  done 
so  much  she  was  a  long  sight  too  ambitious.  She  lay  one 
nest  of  twenty-four  eggs,  and  then  sot  down  and  tried  to 
hatch  'em.  By  spreading  herself  around  putty  wide,  and 
sprawling  her  wings  till  every  feather  was  doing  double  dooty, 
she'd  con-trived  to  keep  'em  all  puity  warm  up  to  a  few 
hours  before  the  time  when  they  had  ought  to  have  begun  to 
peep.  Well,  sir,  I  was  curis  to  see  how  she'd  manage  the 
lot.  Sir,  she'd  move  them  eggs  around  that  smartly  that 
they  were  all  about  of  the  same  tempera-toor,  but  that  wam't 
very  high,  I  guess.  Sir,  when  the  time  had  come  and  gone 
when  her  family  was  expected,  she  grew  kinder  serious,  and 
I  saw  her  with  her  head  on  one  side  considering  the  situation 
nearly  twenty-four  hours.  When  two  days  more  passed,  and 
no  signs  from  the  shells,  she  broke  one  on  'em  to  see  wnat 
the  matter  was  :  and  theer  'twas  plain  enough.  She'd  jest 
had  enough  heat  to  bring  the  chick  up  to  the  point  of 
.  moving,  but  true  as  you're  there  it  couldn't  open  its  mouth 


■Va« 


T 


P 


I" 


136 


LITTLE      HODGE. 


to  save  its  life.  I  guess  'twas  a  case  of  slow  development 
She  sacrificed  that  one  to  her  curiosity,  but  it  made  her  go 
on  settin'  another  week,  when  she  sot  to  in  desperation  and 
broke  the  shells  of  the  whole  lot,  and  turned  'em  all  out  in 
the  sun  :  and  though  they  looked  a  mean  lot  to  begin,  she 
kinder  encouraged  'em  on,  and  very  soon  they  began  to 
'  peep,  peep '  like  all  creation.  Well,  sir,  that  brood  grew 
so  strong  and  handsome  that  I  sold  every  one  of  them  at 
twenty-five  cents  a-piece ;  but  the  old  mother,  she'd  had 
such  an  anxious  lime  of  it  a  settin'  and  a  bringin'  of  'em  out, 
that  it  broke  her  con-stitooshun  and  she  died.  Sir,  your  na- 
tion has  been  a  settin'  for  centoories  on  on-hatched  eggs, 
and  I  reckon  they'll  remain  on-hatched  onless  you  b*  \  the 
shells  yourselves  and  let  'em  out  into  daylight.  I'v.,  ^^en  a 
visiting  that  poor  Hodge,  and  I'm  dubious  he's  the  broken 
egg  that'll  start  the  experiment ;  but  your  Aristocracy  and 
your  Episcoopacy  is  not  the  sagacious  old  fowl  I  reckon  it  if 
it  don't  learn  a  lesson  and  sot  to  and  help  your  weak,  on- 
developed  chicks  out  of  their  shells  into  air  and  sunshine." 

The  Vicar  and  Curate  were  amused  with  their  visitor's 
native  style,  though  they  did  not  appreciate  the  matter. 

"  May  I  ask,"  said  Mr.  Linkboy,  to  divert  the  conversa- 
tion, "  what  the  '  Boys'  and  Girls'  Translation  Institute '  is  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  /  It's  an  institoot  I  established  for  picking  boys 
and  girls  out  of  the  gutters  and  sewers  of  New  York  City 
and  translating  them  to  Cayuga  County,  where  we  clean  'em 
and  lick  'em  into  shape,  and  then,  sir,  we  give  them  a  second 
translation  to  a  farmer's  home  in  the  Far  West ;  and  I  tell 
you  many  a  childless  mother  out  there  is  a  blessing  me  this 


T 


mmm 


mmngmmnfm 


A    VISITOR. 


137 


day  for  having  provided  her  with  a  son  or  a  daughter,  all 
ready  to  hand,  and  free  of  the  expense  and  trouble  of  having 
it  for  herself.  Sir,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  that  institooshun 
has  saved  hundreds  of  poor  little  souls  from  starvation  and 
crime  here  and  damnation  hereafter.     Praise  the  Lord  ! " 

The  rugged  features  of  the  guest  were  overspread  with  a 
gentle  halo  as  he  uttered  these  words  with  real  emotion,  and 
the  clergymen  looked  upon  him  with  kindHer  interest. 

*'  Now,  sir,"  he  said,  "  I've  been  studying  your  problem 
of  the  agri  cul-tooral  laborer  this  last  three  days,  and  I  guess 
I've  got  hold  of  the  end  of  the  hank.  From  peroosing  your 
press,  sir,  I  opine  that  U  your  thinkers  and  o-rators  are 
making  one  grand  mistake — they're  looking  for  a  single  spe- 
cific ;  and  I  guess  they'll  succeed  about  as  well  as  old  Dr. 
Jayne  of  Philadelphy.  He  invented  a  'universal  specific,' 
but  he  hadn't  been  selling  it  long  before  he  was  obliged  to 
come  out  with  d,  partickler  cure  for  worms.  Sir,  you  require 
half  a  dozen  specifics.  There's  your  land  question— well,  I'm 
not  going  into  it,  but  I  mention  it.  There's  co-operation. 
Co-operation  won't  save  so-ciety,  nor  fill  the  bellies  of  all 
creation,  no  more  than  steam  did  ;  but  it'll  help  along  con- 
siderable, I  guess.  There's  the  Trade-union.  That  won't 
save  your  agri-cul-tooral  population ;  but  it's  a  lever,  and  if 
it's  worked  by  smart  men  it'll  pro-duce  a  sight  of  good. 
There's  emigration  and  migration.  Those  are  in  my  line. 
Well,  sir,  I  tell  you,  if  we  Yankees  owned  this  British  Em- 
pire, where  the  sun  never  sets,  we'd  develop  that  little  estate 
in  a  way  to  astonish  you  natives  !  Sir,  you'll  be  surprised  if 
I  tell  you  the  meanest  idees  we  have  of  you  Britishers  in  my 


'ir- 


138 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


country  is  consarnin'  your  way  of  managing  your  magnificent 
Empire.  Howsomever,  sir,  I'm  con-ceited  your  people  will 
live  to  try  all  these  remedies  and  get  them  to  work  together ; 
and  my  belief  is,  if  you  did  you'd  soon  find  your  Poor-law 
Unions  wouH  require  taking  in,  like  onhandy  clothes,  and 
then  I  reckon  you  could  utilize  them  for  free  education." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  too  sanguine,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Leices- 
ter. "  The  Poor-law  is  ineradiciible  in  this  country.  The 
remedies  you  suggest  have  all  been  tried  in  a  measure, 
except  the  drastic  one  of  Unionism,  and  what  that  will  bring 
forth  none  of  us  can  foresee." 

"What  it  will  bring  forth?  Well,  sir,  I  can't  reckon  on 
anything  certain  in  this  enervated  country  ;  but  I  do  calki- 
late  that  mountain  won't  bring  forth  a  ridiculous  muss, 
anyhow.  It  has  grit  in  it,  or  Jeroosalem's  a  delooshun. 
It's  about  time  your  landed  aristocracy  got  upheaved  from 
onderneath.  I  guecs  no  amount  of  ploughing  and  scratch- 
ing on  the  surface  '11  pro-juce  any  effect  on  //la/i.  Sir,  I've 
studied  this  question,  and  I  conclude  that  this  movement 
will  transmogrify  your  English  so-ciety.  It  will  alter  your 
agricultoor,  it  will  change  your  land-laws,  it  will  improve  the 
conditions  of  your  working-class,  it  will  in  the  end  give  a 
great  stimulus  to  emigration  both  of  farmers  and  laborers ; 
it  will  disestablish  your  Church- 


tt 


"I  wish,"  said  Mr.  Leicester,  pricking  up  his  ears  at  these 
revolutionary  forebodings,  anci  rising,  "  I  had  time  to  discuss 
these  questions  with  you ;  but  really,  sir,  1  have  not.  I 
must  pray  you  to  excuse  me." 

"Sir,"  said  the  American,  kindly,  "giv6  me  your  hand. 


m 


m 


A    DARK    DECEMBER. 


139 


I'll  vamoose.  You're  an  English  gentleman,  sir,  and  I  take 
your  hint.  Now,  sir,  take  mine.  Yon,  as  a  minister  of  the 
Lord,  whose  follower  I  am,  though  not  in  your  track,  I 
reckon,  con-sider  what  I've  said :  and  mark  my  words,  sir, 
before  a  year  is  gone  you  will  be  forced  to  look  at  these 
things  from  a  new  point  of  view,  and  then,  sir,  if  Jehoiachin 
Settle  is  still  ga-loping  around  this  infatooated  countr)'^,  you 
may  send  for  him  to  help  you  to  solve  your  difficulties." 

With  these  words  the  stranger  grasped  the  Vicar's  delicate 
fingers  in  his  huge,  chilling  hand,  passed  through  the  same 
ceremony  with  Mr.  Linkboy,  and,  piloting  his  long  form 
with  masterly  ingenuity,  reached  the  gig  and  drove  away. 
The  Curate  had  taken  a  fancy  to  the  grotesque  visitor,  and 
afterwards  meeting  him  again  in  the  village  spent  several 
hours  with  him  at  the  inn. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


A  DARK  DECEMBER. 

Bv  the  time  Hodge  was  able  to  go  about,  December  had 
come.  The  dismal,  long,  cold  nights,  and  the  storm-flurried 
hours  of  day  ;  the  icy  breath  of  the  north-east  wind ;  the  gray 
gaunt  skies  ;  the  white  frost  on  blade  and  bush ;  the  sleet, 
and  snow,  and  chilly  rain— all  these  ushered  Want  and 
Poverty  directly  into  the  dread  presence  of  Winter.  Scores 
and  hundreds  of  laborers  in  the  Cuddlcton  di-strict  were 
now  either  without  work,  or  were  working  on  half-time.  As 
Hodge  recovered,  Mr.  Jolly,  with  a  certain  touch  of  English 


^^m 


'v«^' 


m 


140 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


manliness,  gave  his  victim  what  work  he  could ;  but  it  was 
very  little,  and  he  rigidly  paid  him  only  for  work  done. 
The  Laborers'  Union,  which  had  undertaken  Hodge's  ex- 
penses during  his  illness,  were  now  too  pressed  by  other 
claims  to  do  any  more  for  him.  He  had  during  his  five  or 
six  weeks  of  high  wages  saved  a  few  shillings — his  only  re- 
source. The  children's  needs  cried  out  sharply.  The 
summer  clothing  supplied  by  the  Poorhouse  scantily  pro- 
tected their  shivering  bodies  from  the  cold.  Mary's  wit  was 
nonplussed.  On  some  days  they  had  no  fire  except  such  as 
gathered  sticks  would  make.  On  some  days  the  only  food 
eaten  in  the  house  was  by  Little  Hodge.  That  diminucive 
youngster  exacted  Benjamin's  mess,  spite  of  his  size.  So 
the  days — and  the  nights! — went  on  towards  the  Merry 
Christmas  !  Then  was  the  time  for  a  short  glow  of  pleas- 
ure, when  came  the  gifts  of  coals,  and  blankets,  and  one  or 
two  hearty  meals.  The  district  was  greatly  excited.  The 
farmers  were  resolute  to  use  the  opportunity  to  break  up 
the  Union,  and  they  held  out  threats  of  eviction,  dismissal, 
and  withdrawal  of  bounties,  unless  their  laborers  would 
abandon  the  combination  and  sign  undertakings  foi  a  year's 
labor  at  a  low  rate  of  wages.  The  men  grew  fierce  in  the 
face  of  pressure  and  starvation.  The  Union  could  not  cope 
with  all  the  demands  that  were  made  upon  it.  Muttered 
curses  began  to  give  way  to  acts  of  retaliation.  Threatening 
letters  were  sent.  Ricks  were  burned.  Poaching  was  in- 
cessant, and  several  serious  conflicts  with  keepers  aroused 
the  indignation  of  both  sides.  The  constabulary  was  in- 
creased and  ever  on  the  alert. 


THE     END     CROWNS    THE     WORK. 


141 


Thus  while  the  over-wealthy  nation  was  rejoicing  in  the 
incredible  prosperity  of  the  closing  year,  and  everywhere 
young  and  old,  in  church  and  homestead,  were  preparing  to 
celebrate  the  feast  of  peace  and  good-will  toward  men,  the 
rich  rejoicing  with  their  wealth,  the  poor  hopeful  that  some 
crnmbs  of  Merry  Christmas  comfort  would  fall  to  them  from 
the  rich  man's  table,  over  the  doomed  district  there  gath- 
ered a  dismal  cloud,  and  on  the  hearts  of  its  employers  and 
laborers  brooded  the  awful  spirit  of  Cain.  O  Angel  of 
Goodness  and  Mercy  !  in  pity  of  men's  weakness,  in  remem- 
brance of  the  Christ-mass  time,  from  thy  Heavenly  seat  and 
with  thy  shining  wand  canst  Thou  not — wilt  Thou  not — dis- 
perse these  shades  and  omens  of  inhumanity,  malignity,  and 
despair ! 

•  -  CHAPTER  IX. 


'     .  THE   END  CROWNS   THE  WORK. 

Mr.  Bvrton's  state  of  mind  was  as  hard  to  analyze  as  its 
experience  was  unenviable.  He  had,  to  begin  with,  thrown 
himself  with  all  his  energy  on  the  side  of  selfishness,  and  in 
such  a  case  conscience  must  always  be  soothed  or  vindicated 
with  very  strong  stimulants.  He  bad  suffered,  and  was  suf- 
fering, with  poor  Emily  Byrton,  the  loss  of  an  association  he 
highly  valued,  and  his  mortification  was  the  greater  that  Sir 
Henry  Fwbank  "had  taken  deep  offence  at  the  Squire's  treat- 
ment of  his  son.  The  defection  of  his  friend  the  Vicar  was 
another  trial  to  his  faith  in  himself.     But  in  propo*  tion  to  the 


.^ 


"WPPSPI 


^■■I^IWiP"— "9^ 


142 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


untowardness  of  these  incidents  grew  the  stubbornness  of 
Mr.  Byrton's  resistance  to  the  Union.  He  credited  that 
with  all  his  mortifications.  Consequently  his  bitterness  in- 
creased as  his  position  grew  weaker,  and  as  his  conscience 
became  less  satisfied  with  what  he  was  doing.  Emily  Byr- 
ton's sad  face  looked  sadder  as  the  day  of  Christian  hope 
drew  nigh.  This  was  a  constant  reproach  to  the  Squire — 
one  that  tested  his  resolution  and  touched  his  heart  most 
keenly ;  so  keenly  that  by  a  curious  perversion  of  his  moral 
feelings  he  used  it  to  stay  his  misgivings  under  the  belief 
that  he  was  a  martyr.  If  one  can  only  get  himself  to  be- 
lieve thaty  he  may  justify  a  murder,  at  all  events  to  his  own 
mind. 

Emily  Byrton  always  looked  forward  to  the  Christmas 
week  as  a  time  of  peculiar  pleasure.  Then  it  was  that  from 
all  parts  of  her  father's  large  estates  came  trooping  up  to 
Byrton  Hall  the  men,  women,  and  children  of  their  cottier 
tenantry;  and  it  had  for  years  been  her  part  to  distribute, 
amid  glad  laughter,  gay  smiles,  and  cheery  cries  of  "  Merry 
Christmas  "  in  bass  and  treble  voices,  such  gifts  as  the  people 
could  carry  away.  And  there,  always  loudest  and  merriest 
of  the  throng,  the  Squire  used  to  stand  and  enhance  the 
pleasure  of  his  gifts  with  kindly  words.  It  had  become  so 
fixed  a  part  of  life  she  could  not  conceive  that  her  father 
would  intermit  it ;  but  when  the  week  drew  nigh,  and  she 
saw  that  the  usual  preparations  were  not  made,  the  great  bale 
of  blankets  from  London  did  not  come,  and  Nicholas  the 
butcher  had  not  received  the  generous  order  for  a  shop-fuli  of 
joints,  Emily  looked  in  her  father's  face  almost  with  fear.  It 


THE  END  CROWNS  THE  WORK. 


143 


shone  towards  her,  but  she  felt  it  terrible  that  his  heart  should 
have  so  changed. 

"  O  Papa  ! "  she  said  naively,  "  what  have  these  poor  peo- 
ple done  to  make  yoi  so  dreadfully  stem  ?" 

The  Squire's  face  grew  pale,  and  it  was  only  with  a  power- 
ful effort  that  he  restrained  an  outbreak  of  temper  and 
turned  away.  But  he  could  not  shake  the  words  from  his 
heart. 

Christmas-eve  had  come :  erst  the  night  of  nights  of  all 
the  year,  from  the  great  Hall  to  the  smallest  cottage  on  the 
Squire's  estate.  Black  clouds  had  gathered  all  the  day,  and 
came  drifting  with  fearful  rapidity  in  huge  tangled  heaps 
across  the  heavens.  The  wind  shrieked  dismally  among  the 
leafless  branches,  and  those  who  faced  it  under  that  gloomy 
sky  felt  its  desponding  influence  penetrate  to  their  inmost 
souls.  Everything  was  done  within  Byrton  Hall  to  make 
the  eve  as  gladsome  as  usual — the  early  dinner,  the  yule  log 
in  the  hall,  the  evening  games  and  dances  ;  but  there  was  a 
deadness  throughout  the  festivity  that  no  effort  could  galvan- 
ize. Emily,  always  the  life  of  such  a  time,  though  she  strug- 
gled to  forget  herself,  was  nerveless  and  distrait ;  the  Squire 
went  absently  about,  waking  up  to  episodes  of  fim  in  pain- 
ful spasms ;  Mrs.  Byrton,  watching  with  a  woman's  eyes  and 
feeling  with  a  woman's  heart,  wondered  whereunto  all  this 
was  coming.  When  the  hour  for  bed  arrived,  the  Squire 
yawned  most  gratefully  ;  and  Emily,  snatching  a  candle  and 
forgetting  her  adieux,  ran  off  to  hide  her  head  in  the  pillGV7 
and  drench  it  with  her  tears. 

Dour  and  desperate  was  the   night.     How  the  storm 


V -~ 


144 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


raved  and  the  clouds  drave  !  How  did  the  tyranny  of  Dark- 
ness oppress  the  scene,  made  more  weird-like  by  breaks  in 
the  drifting  masses  that  now  and  then  opened  and  showed 
great  jagged-edged  tracts  of  dingy  yellowish  sky  !  The  poor 
waits  shivered  and  trembled  and  sang  out  their  quavering 
melodies  in  quaint  discordance  from  behind  any  shelter  they 
could  find ;  the  fierce  wind  taking  up  the  notes  and  carrying 
them,  transformed  into  shrieks  and  yells,  away  into  the  in- 
fernal gloom.  A  night,  it  was,  long  remembered — when 
jovial  guests  returned  home  saddened  by  its  terrors,  and 
many  a  son  of  Want  lay  down  and  yielded  his  life  to  the 
demon  of  Despair.  A  night  the  Squire  never  forgot ;  sleep- 
less, anxious,  and  sullen — when  his  own  heart  reflected  the 
distracted  ravings  and  gloomy  spirits  of  the  scene  without. 
When  at  length  he  sank  into  a  troubled  sleep  it  was  a  pleas- 
ure to  be  wakened  by  the  clear,  merry  voices  of  his  chil- 
dren singing  a  Christmas  anthem  on  the  staircase,  while 
Emily  made  the  organ  peal  out  sweet  notes  of  melody  in 
honor  of  the  baby  Saviour. 

Uneasy  was  the  morning ;  fitly  following  such  a  night. 
The  wind  veered  round,  and  came  sweeping  along  icy  and 
hard.  Dark,  heavy  clouds,  massing  themselves  to  the 
North-east,  rolled  up  raggedly  and  wildly  over  the  hemi- 
sphere ;  and  there  was  a  keen,  rushing  eagerness  in  the  cold 
draughts  that  blew  out  of  the  cheeks  of  those  grim  North- 
eastern monsters  of  the  air.  Here  and  there,  where  through 
the  night  a  few  flakes  of  snow  had  fallen,  they  lay  driven 
into  ruts  and  nooks,  where  they  seemed  glad  to  nestle  from 
the   cruel  breeze.     How  it   soughed   through   the   leafless 


til 


THE    END    CROWNS    THE    WORK. 


145 


branches  of  the  great  elm  at  the  end  of  the  Hall,  and 
sang  through  the  lofty  old  pines  that  stood  on  the  knoll 
behind  the  stables,  and  rasped  about  the  corners  and  the 
angled  chimneys  of  the  houses,  and  spirited  through  every 
crevice,  like  a  cold,  harsh,  angry  Genius  with  a  savage 
voice ! 

The  Squire  was  specially  uncomfortable.  His  breakfast 
showed  that  the  air  was  no  tonic  to  his  appetite.  He  drew 
away  from  the  table,  and  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  stood 
looking  out  of  the  big  bay-window  over  the  dim  landscape, 
across  the  lawn  and  the  distant  dark-ribbed  plough-fields, 
away  beyond  Truscott's  cottages,  as  far  as  his  eye  could 
reach  for  the  trees  that  studded  the  view,  over  property  all 
his  own,  in  a  most  cheerless  mood  for  a  great  landed  pro- 
prietor on  a  Christmas  day. 

By  and  by,  when  they  had  all  trooped  off  to  church,  the 

Squire  went  into  his   library,  and   drawing   the  arm-chair 

opposite  the  fire  sat  there  with  his  feet  on  the  fender.     Wind 

and  cold  and  deadness  and  dimness  might  tyrannize  without, 

but  could  they  reach  the  cosey  man  sitting  in  that  cosey 

spot — there  in  the  heat,  there  in  the  dancing,  fantastic  light 

which  so  saucily  hissed  and  flickered  away  with  its  flaming 

tongues  in  scorn  of  the  dull  monsters  outside?     Yes;  for 

the  Squire  looks  nervously  round  to  see  where  the  draughts 

come  from,  and  draws  nearer  the  genial  warmth.     There  he 

sits,  moodily  gazing  into  the  bright,  merry  blaze.     In  at  his 

ears,  in  spite  of  him,  surges  a  torrent  of  thoughts  he  vainly 

strives  to  stem.     Are  those  the  cries  of  children  ?  Unheard 

voices  fi-om  unseen  mouths,  piercing  through  and  sweeping 
10 


T-fsa^m 


"^^mmmrn 


mm^ 


w 


146 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


away  the  obstacles  his  will  feebly  opposes  to  them,  over- 
master his  soul.  At  length  he  becomes  quite  helpless  and 
ceases  to  offer  resistance. 

"  I  wish  I  had  gone  to  church,"  says  he,  getting  up  and 
looking  out  of  the  window.  At  the  moment  his  favorite  re- 
triever, Nelly,  swept  round  from  the  back  of  the  house,  and 
after  a  turn  on  the  lawn  came  up  to  the  familiar  casement, 
and  seeing  him  there,  put  her  forepaws  on  the  sill,  whining 
and  yelping,  half  in  joy  and  half  in  excitement. 

"Why,  lass,"  said  he,  opening  the  window,  through  which 
she  leaped  in  a  moment,  "what's  the  matter  with  you?  A 
merry  Christmas,  lass  ! " 

Nelly  licked  his  hand,  but  took  no  further  notice  of  the 
salutation.  She  whined  as  she  moved  uneasily  about  the 
room. 

"  Hi,  lass !  Dost  thee  want  a  run  then  ?  Egad !  a  good 
idea.     I'll  shake  this  fit  off  me  in  a  blow  up  the  hill." 

In  less  than  a  minute  the  Squire  was  out,  crossing  the 
lawn,  the  dog  circling  about  him  with  signs  of  joy. 
.  "  Ha !  lass,  it  was  this  you  wanted,  eh  ?" 

To  the  left  now,  over  the  stile,  up  through  that  huge 
rising  fallow-field,  up  to  where  now  glancing  on  the  right  he 
could  see  stretched  out  a  large  portion  of  his  domain,  and 
the  village  church,  and  Farmer  Jolly's  house,  and  the  farm 
buildings,  and  the  little  row  of  cottages  where  the  Union 
was  born.  He  turned  his  back  upon  it.  O;.  again  over 
the  turnip  field,  and  now  through  the  gate,  whence  a  path 
leads  to  the  right  close  by  the  keeper's  cottage,  while  the 


'Vfll.1 


■* 


THE     END     CROWNS    THE    WORK. 


147 


ver- 
and 

and 
te  re- 
,  and 
ment, 
lining  , 

which 
1?    A 

of  the 
DUt  the 

good 
ing  the 


It  huge 
ight  he 
in,  and 
he  farm 
Union 
,in  over 
a  path 
,ile  the 


broad   track  goes   on  straight  through  the  woods.      Nelly 
takes  the  path. 

"What!  Steering  for  Robert  Kane's,  lass?  What  drt 
thee  up  to  ?  " 

The  path  is  steep  and  the  Squire  pufTs  up  hardly  against 
the  wind,  but  it  seems  not  to  sweep  his  dull  thoughts  away. 
Now  he  has  reached  Kane's  cottage,  and  the  gamekeeper 
hearing  the  dog's  bark  has  come  out  and  pulls  a  lock  to  the 
Squire  at  the  door,  and  there  is  Bessie  Kane  curtseying 
within. 

"  A  merry  Christmas,  sir ! " 

"  What  ? — Oh  !  Kane,  is  it  you  ?  Ah  ?  a  merry  Christmas 
to  you  ! "  And  not  noticing  the  smiling  housewife  he  passes 
on,  absently  following  the  dog,  who  precedes  him  eight  or 
ten  yards.  Over  the  short-clipped,  clumpy  grass  where  the 
hares  love  to  feed,  and  in  and  out  among  the  tufts  of  furze, 
and  now  traversing  the  copse,  and  so  on  into  the  wood 
went  dog  and  man,  treading  the  dingy,  cold-crisped  leaves, 
and  listening  to  the  miserable  wailing  of  the  wind  through 
the  naked  branches.  The  old  sportsman's  eye  is  never  off 
his  dog,  and  he  sees  her  suddenly  turn  out  of  the  path  and 
dash  inco  the  underwood.  There  he  hears  her  barking  and 
sniffing. 

"  Quiet,  Nelly,  quiet !     Heer,  lass  ! " 
.  But   Nelly  barks  more  furiously  than   ever.     Anon   she 
runs  towards  her  master  and  then  goes  whining  back. 

"  Ay,  ay,  Nelly !  what  is  it  ?  " 

Ay  1  Squire,  drop  your  stick  and  clasp  your  hands  in 

horror  as  you  look  down  upon  it ! —  IV/ia/  is  iti    What  are 


148 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


these  strange  drops  upon  the  brown,  ghastly  leaves,  and 
what  is  that  upon  its  face  stretched  out  stiff  and  stark  under 
the  nut-bush?  Turn  it  over  and  shudder  as  the  blood- 
stained steel  drops  from  the  dead  fingers,  and  you  see 
above  the  terrible  gash  that  hand  and  steel  have  made,  the 
livid  face  of  poor  John  Hodge.  Lay  hold  of  the  blue 
fingers  in  your  frenzy  and  rub  for  your  life.  Feel  the 
chilled  temples  and  lay  your  hand,  knowing  not  what  you  do, 
over  the  still  heart,  and  pull  it  away  with  a  crimsoned  palm. 
Cry  out,  Squire,  in  the  anguish  of  your  soul — 

"  Hodge  !  Hodge  !  " 

There  is  no  answer  from  the  lifeless  lips.  How  the  dog 
whines ! 

"Hollo!  Holl-0-0-0!" 

On  with  the  wind  flies  the  strong,  clear  voice — down  on 
the  Christmas  wind  with  a  long,  wailing,  melancholy  strain  , 
down  to  the  cottage  where  Kane  and  his  wife  sit  wondering 
what  can  have  come  to  the  Squire  ;  down  the  cottage 
chimney  to  the  quick  ear  of  the  keeper. 

"Theer's  maaster  a  callen,  Bess,  an'  purty  loud  too. 
Harkee  !  agaen !     God  save  us,  Bess  I  what's  oop,  girl  ?  " 

Here  is  the  keeper  running  with  all  his  might,  his  hat  off 
and  his  gun  snatched  from  the  rack  on  the  wall. 

The  dog  rushes  out  to  meet  him. 

"  Kane,  Kane  !     Look  here  ! " 

Ay  !  Kane,  you  too  may  well  turn  pale  at  the  sight ! 

For  last  evening  as  you  were  ranging  home  from  the  Byrton 
Arms  to  your  early  Christmas  supper,  you  met  this  man 
now  lying  gashed  and  dead  before  you.  furtively  slinking 


THE  END  CKOWNS  THE  WORK. 


149 


across  the  open  towards  the  wood,  and  like  a  menial  as  thou 
art,  didst  jibe  him  and  threaten  him  with  a  beating  for  his 
trespass,  in  these  words — 

"  Be  off.  Jack  Hodge ;  be  off,  I  tell  ee,  or  I'll  gi'e  thee  a 
racketing  !  Thee'rt  a  shirking  vagabon'  ! "  The  last  words 
John  Hodge  heard  from  his  brother  man. 

The  Squire  has  thrown  his  handkerchief  over  the  face, 
and  now  essays,  with  the  keeper's  help,  to  lift  the  body. 

"  To  your  cottage,  Kane." 

Kane  sees  that  the  Squire's  rubicund  face  is  marked  in 
livid  patches,  and  his  hps  are  close  together.  The  master 
makes  an  effort  to  take  his  part  in  the  lift,  but  suddenly 
stops,  and  sitting  down  beside  the  body  covers  his  face  with 
his  hands,  and  without  affectation  of  concealment  weeps  as 
men  seldom  weep.  The  sturdy  gamekeeper,  aghast  and 
troubled,  turns  respectfully  away,  drawing  the  cuff  of  his  new 
velveteen  coat  across  his  eyes  to  its  irreparable  damage. 
And  Nelly,  on  her  haunches,  sits  and  cries  too,  the  big  tears 
coursing  down  her  innocent  nose.  The  cold  wind  keeps  up 
its  incessant  requiem. 

O  Soul  of  John  Hodge  I  canst  thou,  up  there  with  the 
singing  Angels,  where  resentment  is  unknown  and  revenge 
is  forgotten,  look  down  and  see  these  repentant  tears? 

At  length  the  Squire  spoke — 

"  Better  carry  it  straight  to  his  cottage,  Kane.  I  can't 
help  you.     Go  and  get  help  :  I  will  stay  here." 

The  gamekeeper  sped  with  all  his  might,  half  afraid  to 
leave  his  master  by  the  body.  But  the  Squire  sat  and  gave 
rein  to  his  thoughts.     They  were  not  verj'  many  minutes, 


'fpi 


I 


150 


LITTLE    H0D31&. 


yet  they  were  golden  minutes  to  the  Squire  ;  a  bitter  but  a 
wholesome  time.  From  them  he  stood  up  at  length  with  a 
serener  face,  as  he  heard  the  crackling  and  leaping  of  fast- 
coming  feet,  and  the  horror-stricken  men  broke  in  on  the 
scene.  Kane  noticed  that  his  master  spoke  in  his  old 
manner. 

He  walked  on  before  the  melancholy  procession  down 
over  the  head  of  the  hill,  the  way  the  man  must  have  come 
last  night,  and  reached  the  cottage  in  advance  of  the  bearers. 
In  at  John  Hodge's  door  went  the  Squire  without  knocking. 
In  at  John  Hodge's  door  swept  with  him  the  keen,  rude 
wind,  and  rushed  fiercely  towards  the  empty  chimney.  In, 
too,  came  Nelly,  sniffing  suspiciously  the  doubtful  air. 
Chill,  dark,  damp — everything  precisely  as  Hodge  had  left  it 
the  night  before :  bare  floor,  and  walls,  and  table,  and  the 
open  cupboard,  with  some  crumbs  on  the  shelf,  and  no  more. 
A  small  heap  of  dried  lea  s  and  sticks  piled  on  the  hearth, 
the  last  fatherly  work  of  the  dead.  The  Squire's  heart  sank 
within  him.  Can  he  have  murdered  the  children'}  Up  the 
narrow  stair  he  dashed  like  a  madman,  and  burst  into  the 
garret.  Thank  God !  there  is  a  cry  or  two  ;  but  a  scene  for 
Christmas  morning  that  might  make  even  Parochus,  who  is 
a  corporation  and  has  no  soul,  sorry.  Mary  sits  in  the  cor- 
ner, her  eyes  shut,  her  face  pallid,  and  in  her  nerveless  arms 
Little  Hodge,  wrapped  in  the  petticoat  she  has  taken  oif  in 
the  hope  of  keeping  the  sparks  of  life  in  his  tiny  form. 
Tummas  next  her  is  asleep,  and  round  the  two  cluster,  some 
sleeping,  one  or  two  awake,  but  seemingly  incapable  of 
motion,  the  brothers  and  sisters.     They  have  been  without 


THE     END    CROWNS    THE    WORK. 


151 


food  or  fire  these  thirty  hours.  Nelly  ran  and  licked  the 
face  of  the  sleeping  girl.     She  did  not  move. 

"  Good  God  ! "  said  the  Squire,  dancing  about  "  Here,  I 
say,  all  of  you,  wake  up  !  wake  up  !  Merry  Christmas,  I 
say !  Here,  what's  your  names  ?  Mary,  John,  Thomas, 
Jane,  Susan,  Betsy ! " — at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

Tummas  woke  up,  with  one  or  two  others,  who  at  the 
sight  of  the  alarming  stranger  began  to  cry.  Mary  did  not 
move. 

"  Bless  my  soul ! "  said  the  Squire,  feeling  her  cheek. 
And  away  he  goes  down  the  stairs  and  out  of  the  cottage, 
and  there  he  is  running  across  the  old  meadow  to  Farmer 
Jolly's  house,  Nelly  stopping  to  guard  the  children,  and  the 
sad  bearers  as  they  draw  nigh  silently  thinking  that  he  is  de- 
ranged. In  a  few  moments  he  and  the  farmer  and  one  or 
two  women  are  back  in  the  cottage  with  wine,  food,  milk, 
and  a  good  bundle  of  wood.  Mrs.  Nollekens,  aroused  by 
tlie  disturbance,  comes  in  with  Tim,  and  when  she  hears  the 
news,  her  heart  having  smitten  her  for  the  fatal  words  she 
oncft  uttered  to  the  dead,  she  has  gone  off  into  vicious  hys- 
terics, shrieking  and  kicking  on  the  floor  with  penitent  vigor. 
The  body  has  been  laid  on  the  table,  covered  with  poor 
Robert  Kane's  velveteen  coat.  He,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  is 
kindling  a  fire. 

"  Here,  Jolly,  up  here  !  Up  here  with  the  wine,  quick, 
like  a  good  girl !  Look  out  there,  Nollekens,  stop  that 
wife  of  yours  !  Can't  you  sit  on  her  head,  and  cut  the  tra- 
ces, eh  ?  "  cried  a  horsey  old  gentleman,  as  he  vanished  up 
the  staircase.     "  Not  a  word  about  the  father,"  he  whispers 


>f^ 


Mil   1,11..    ]"~»l!S 


mm 


ma 


152 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


r 
r 


on  the  stairs.  Then  he  and  the  farmer  lay  Mary  on  the 
bed,  and  gently  give  her  a  spoonful  of  wine,  and  so  one  ^y 
one  the  frozen  little  ones  are  roused  from  torpor  and  made 
strong  enough  to  move  about.  The  table,  with  its  dread 
weight,  is  transferred  for  a  short  time  into  the  shed  in  the 
yard  ;  and  while  a  messenger  goes  to  the  Hall  for  a  waggon- 
ette the  eleven  little  ones  are  warmed  at  the  now  cheery 
fire.  Mrs.  Nollekens,  restored  without  the  heroic  remedy 
suggested  by  the  Squire,  and  Mrs.  Jolly,  who  has  brought 
some  clothes,  wash  the  little  hands  and  faces,  and  make  the 
children  all  look  as  decent  as  may  be,  the  Squire  sitting  by 
and  looking  on  with  a  beaming  face,  all  the  livid  spots  gone 
from  it  and  not  a  cloud  to  be  seen  in  his  clear  blue  eyes. 
And  Nelly,  stretching  her  neck  towards  the  grateful  fire, 
nods  and  winks  a  sagacious  approbation. 

Here  is  the  waggonette  ;  and  there  among  the  warm  rugs 
they  bury  the  children.  Little  Hodge,  whose  rigid  state 
gives  some  anxiety,  actually  borne  in  the  Squire's  own  arms. 
And  so  they  drive  away,  carrying  off  with  them  the  tempor- 
ary sunshine  from  that  dismal  home,  and  leaving  the  sad 
watchers  by  the  awful  dead. 

And  who  is  this  who  has  slipped  round  to  the  back, 

and  having  uncovered  the  face  a  moment  and  taken  one 
glance,  has  turned  away  and  is  walking  up  and  down  the 
stony  yard,  wringing  his  great  strong  hands  and  repeating, 
**  God  forgive  me  !  God  forgive  me  !  I've  made  a  mistake. 
God  forgive  me  ?  "  Ah  !  Farmer  Jolly,  thank  God  you  see 
your  blunder  and  are  sorry  for  it !  Are  there  not  minister- 
ing spirits  waiting  to  bear  away  to  Heaven  the  sighs  of  a 


w 


THE     END     CROWNS    THE    WORK. 


153 


broken  and  repentant  heart,  and  may  they  not  come  back 
laden  with  Christmas  blessings  even  for  thee  ? 

Up  the  long  avenue  towards  the  Hall  goes  the  heavily 
laden  waggonette,  and  see  there  on  the  steps  and  in  through 
the  open  door  what  a  glad  crowd  is  waiting  !     As  the  car 
riage  draws  up  there  is  a  great  cheer,  and  that  beautif  ., 
golden-haired  girl  runs  forward  and  takes  into  her  arms  r  -^ 
descending  Squire,  and  with  laughing  and  crying  eyes  says — 

"  Oh  !  you  {fear  old  father  !     Give  me  the  baby  !  " 

And  so  they  are  all  lifted  out,  each  one  taken  in  charge 
by  some  willing  convoy  and  piloted  into — the  kitchen  ? 
"No,"  cries  the  Squire,  "into  the  drawing-room."  And 
there  is  such  a  scurrying  of  housemaids,  and  consultation  of 
nurses,  and  turning  out  of  wardrobes,  and  general  scouring 
and  rehabilitation  of  Hodge's  children,  that  the  day  is  far 
gone  before  any  one  thinks  of  settling  down  to  quiet  or 
amusement. 

Emily,  having  deposited  her  charge  in  the  nurse's  hands, 
had  gone  to  her  father  in  the  hall,  and  taking  hold  of  each 
lappel  of  his  coat,  had  looked  straight  into  his  eyes  and 
said — 

"  Father " 

"  Stop  ! "  said  he,  kissing  her  ;  "  I  know  what  you're  going 
to  say.     Send  Williams  with  the  bay  mare." 

And  Williams  had  sped  for  love  of  his  young  mistress  all 
that  long  ten  miles,  and  hot  with  speed  and  galloping  there 
jumped  down  at  the  door  young  Henry  Ewbank — jumped 
down  into  the  open  arms  of  Emily  Byrton,  who,  not  being 


SE3= 


W^ 


^^m 


154 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


at  Ujiji,  did  not  care  a  bit  for  the  butler  and  the  groom,  and 
as  she  put  her  arms  round  his  neck  said — 

"  O  Harry,  thank  God  you've  come  back  to  me  at  last ! " 
"  Hi !  you  two  young  people,"  said  a  jolly  voice  from  the 
top  of  the  steps,  "  what  are  you  doing  there  ?    You  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves." 

All  the  incidents  of  that  merry  evening  I  cannot  attempt 
to  tell.  The  dinners  that  were  eaten,  the  friendships  that 
were  sworn  between  juvenile  aristocrats  and  little  snobs, 
the  rioting  in  the  dining-room,  the  peeping  and  hiding  and 
shouting  in  the  hall,  the  Squire's  animation  and  boisterous 
glee,  the  joy  that  beamed  in  Emily's  face,  the  self-satisfied 
humor  of  that  young  prig  Ewbank,  and  the  sweet  content- 
ment that  played  upon  the  gentle  features  of  the  mother,  as 
she  tliankcd  God  her  husband  and  her  children  were  them- 
selves again ;  all  this  and  more  I  might  enumerate,  but  not 
describe.  Mr.  Leicester  came  over  in  the  evening,  having 
heard  the  news ;  and  by  and  by,  when  the  whole  party  were 
weary  with  pleasure,  the  clergyman  drew  them  together  and 
with  faltering  voice,  as  he  thanked  God  for  His  goodness  to 
them  all,  besought  for  them  His  mccy.  And  then  they  all 
went  out  to  the  organ  in  the  hall,  and  Emily  in  rapt  ecstasy 
played  while  they  sang  ouJ  vith  all  their  hearts  the  noble 
strains  of  the  Christmas  Anthem — Peace  on  Earth  :  Good- 
will TOWARD  Men. 


mmammmf 


PART   V. 


UNIONS  AND  COMMUNIONS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


YANKEE  INTERVENTION. 


The  Squire  frankly  owned  the  change  which  that  Christ- 
mas-day had  wrought  in  him.  He  had  pushed  repression 
to  the  utmost  limit,  and  its  fruit  was  an  apple  of  Sodom. 
Mr.  Leicester,  whose  mind  had  been  greatly  agitated  by  this 
fearful  crisis  of  the  contention  with  the  laborers,  went 
heartily  with  him.  Mr.  Linkboy  was  taken  into  counsel, 
and  at  his  suggestion  Sammy  Stednian  was  sent  for.  To 
him  Mr.  Bvrton  declared  his  wish  to  make  an  effort  to  end 
the  social  war  now  raging  in  Coddleton,  and  candidly  asked 
1  's  aid. 

"Sir,"  said  Stedman  to  him,  solemnly,  "would  to  God 
you  had  done  this  at  first !  Had  masters  met  men  with 
reason  and  kindness  instead  of  passion  and  revenge,  many 
heart-burnings  and  much  suffering  would  have  been  pre- 
vented." 

"  It  is  useless,  my  friend,  to  regret  the  past,"  returned 
the  other,  quietly.  "  It  is  not  too  late  to  mend.  Will  /ou 
help  us  to  do  it  ?  " 


mum 


156 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


i  V 


Forthwith  the  Squire,  supported  by  Mr.  Leicester  and 
Mr.  Jolly,  who  had  taken  two  of  Hodge's  children  into  his 
house,  set  to  work  resolutely  to  undo  all  they  had  been  do- 
ing for  the  past  seven  or  eight  months.  How  hard  it  is  to 
fall  back  and  repair  in  society  the  evils  of  so  long  and 
fierce  a  struggle !  They  admitted  the  difficulties  in  their 
way  to  be  enormous,  and  the  outlet  not  to  be  very  clear  to 
them,  but  they  were  earnest  and  they  were  hopeful. 

After  considering  a  variety  of  plans  which  had  been  sug- 
gested from  different  quarters,  the  Squire  and  Sammy  Sted- 
man  agreed  that  the  proper  thing  to  do  was  to  call  a  joint 
meeting  of  farmers  and  laborers  to  consider  whether  any- 
thing could  be  done  to  put  their  relations  on  a  better  foot- 
ing. The  response  to  the  summons  was  hearty,  both  on 
account  of  the  notorious  facts  that  had  led  to  it  and  of  the 
impatience  of  both  parties  to  end  the  existing  state  of 
things. 

The  Squire  took  the  chair  and  in  a  few  touching  sen- 
tences described  the  cause  of  the  change  that  had  come  over 
his  mind,  and  besought  them  from  both  sides  to  approach 
the  subject  with  toleration  and  good-feeling.  Then  Mr. 
Leicester  spoke,  and  then  Sammy  Stedman  spoke.  The 
latter,  not  offensively,  warned  the  farmers  at  the  outset  that 
the  Union  was  an  established  thing,  and  could  not  be  dis- 
solved :  that  is,  permanence  must  be  the  basis  of  any  settfe- 
ment  "  A  Union,"  he  said,  "  is  the  laborer's  only  safe 
standing  ground.  To  some  extent,  also,  it  should  be  the 
farmer's  assurance  of  a  good  footing.  The  Union  cannot 
be  given  up ;  but  you  can,  if  you  will,  make  it  a  different 


^m 


mmm 


YANKEE     INTERVENTION. 


157 


thing  from  what  it  will  be  if  it  must  be  your  antagonist  in- 
stead of  your  associate." 

The  Squire  asked  the  farmers  to  concede  this.  "  I  re- 
gard the  Union,  since  I  have  looked  fairly  at  its  rules,  and 
have  had  its  objects  explained  to  me  by  Stedman,  with 
altered  feelings.  I  can  see  how  reasonable  it  is  that  the 
individual  laborer  should  desire  to  have  his  position  strength- 
ened by  association  with  his  fellows — a  feeling  he  holds  in 
common  with  almost  every  trade  or  profession.  The  dan- 
ger, of  course,  is  that  the  laborers  may  use  the  power  this 
combination  gives  them  to  tyrannize  over  the  capitalists. 
But  just  as  education  and  the  teaching  of  experience  have 
made  other  associations  reasonable  in  the  use  of  their  com- 
bination, so  these  will  learn  that,  if  they  exceed  the  rules  of 
right,  they  cannot  do  it  with  impunity.  In  the  long  run 
their  exactions  will  return  upon  themselves  with  disastrous 
effect.  We  are  not  without  weapons  to  meet  them,  if  it 
comes  to  that ;  but  what  occurs  to  me  is  this — with  a  real 
desire  on  both  sides  to  live  on  a  good  understanding,  nfe^  it 
ever  come  to  that  1 " 

The  problem  having  been  stated  in  this  way  and  in  this 
spirit,  they  all  went  to  work  to  look  for  a  solution.  Hope- 
less work,  you  may  say,  Mr.  Political  Economist,  but  at  all 
events  more  hopeful  than  fighting  their  way  to  no  end.  The 
meeting  was  held  in  the  great  room  of  the  Byrton  Arms  at 
Coddleton.  Behind  the  gentlemen  who  sat  around  the 
Squire,  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  was  a  door.  Jusit  as 
the  meeting  was  about  to  buckle  to  the  question  this  door 
began  slowly  to  open.     Presently,  at  least  a  foot  above  the 


w 


^58 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


level  at  which  the  head  of  an  ordinary  human  being  might 
be  looked  for,  there  appeared  a  face — such  a  face  as  the 
assembled  three  hundred  had  never -seen.  A  smile  slowly- 
radiated  over  its  curious  features,  and  a  clear,  though  nasal 
voice,  said — 

"  I  guess  I  don't  intrude,  if  I  come  in,  eh  ?" 

The  apparition  was  altogether  so  unexpected  and  so  rare, 
that  the  good-humored  burst  of  laughter  which  greeted 
Jehoiachin  Settle,  as  he  developed  his  entire  length  from 
behind  the  door,  was  excusable.     He  joined  in  it  himself. 

"  I  ain't  a  Little  Hodge,''  he  remarked  aloud.  "  Nv), 
sirree  !  In  my  country  we  don't  have  babies  born  the  sizt 
of  dormice ;  and  I  admit  I've  grown  con-siderable  since  I 
first  took  air." 

When  they  came  to  discuss  the  matter  in  hand,  sucli 
questions  as  these  were  raised  : 


I' 


1.  Is  the  district  overstocked  with  labof,  and  if  so  how 

is  this  to  be  remedied  ? 

2.  How  should  men  be  paid — by  time,  by  piece-work,  in 

mon^y,  or  partly  with  perquisites,  cottages,  allot- 
ments, etc.  ? 

3.  How  arc  you   to  meet  the  difference  of  capacity 

in   laborers?     What   is   to  become   of   the  old, 
weakly,  half-paupers,  etc.? 

4.  Can  farmers  afford  Iiigher  wages  ? 

5.  Is  it  necessary  or  expedient  to   give   the   laborers 

any  share  of  profits  ?    If  so  on  what  basis  ? 


fmni 


YANKEE     INTERVENTION. 


159 


« 


6.  Can  co-operation  be  successfully  introduced  into,  ag- 

riculture, and  how  far  will  it  act  as  a  remedy  ? 

7.  What  means,  artificial  or  otherwise,  are  to  be  used 

to  diminish  over-supply,  if  existing  ?     (Emigration, 
migration,  etc.) 

And  so  on.  They  evidently  had  more  in  hand  than  they 
could  determine  at  one  meeting. 

The  Squire,  after  a  while,  suggested  that  they  were  not 
then  in  a  position  to  discuss  these  questions  fairly.  They 
had  no  sufficient  data.  They  ought  first  to  have  particulars 
of  the  number  of  employers  and  laborers  in  the  district ;  the 
number  for  whom  employment  existed,  either  constant  or 
casual ;  numbers  in  receipt  of  out-door  relief;  numbers  in- 
capable of  work;  expenses  of  poor  relief;  information  as  to 
modes  of  farming  and  amount  of  production,  etc.,  etc.  In 
fact,  it  was  clear  that  before  a  new  combination  could  essay 
to  solve  the  problem  at  all  they  must  first  be  in  possession 
of  the  facts.  Alas  !  it  had  taken  a  long  and  sore  journey  to 
bring  them  to  this  obvious  point !  They  elected  a  commit- 
tee to  inquire  into  these  matters,  and  to  report  thereon,  with 
recommendations. 

Before  the  meeting  broke  up  Mr.  Jehoiachin  Settle  begged 
leave  to  say  a  few  words. 

"My  friends,"  he  began,  "  I'm  a  Yankee  from  New  York, 
raised  in  Massachoosetts,  and  3^ou  may  en-quire  what  busi- 
ness I  have  to  interfere  in  your  family  squabbles.  Well,  the 
fact  is,  that  having  neither  children  nor  quarrels  of  my  own, 
I'm  always  interfering  with  other  people's  ;  and  as  a  brother 


mnmmm 


1 60 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


and  a  Christian  I  can't  help  taking  an  interest  in  your 
troubles."  Then  stating  his  view  of  the  position,  he  went 
on : 


"Gentlemen,  I  reckon  this  is  the  all-firedest  breeding- 
ground  on  the  face  of  God  Almighty's  earth.  Thar's  no  hu- 
man diggings  known  to  me  where  cattle  and  hosses  and 
men  and  women  can  be  raised  to  that  pitch  of  perfection 
reached  in  your  country.  As  far  as  1  can  o-pine,  you're 
destined  by  the  Almighty  to  be  a  substitoot  for  Abraham, 
whose  loins  were  pretty  capacious,  I  guess,  and  covered  the 
earth  with  a  multitood  no  man  could  number.  You  British- 
ers appear  to  me  to  be  doing  the  same  with  reasonable 
smartness.  I  calkilate  your  U-nited  Kingdom  will  be  chock- 
full  in  twenty-five  years'  time,  and  when  that  ac-me  is 
reached  I  reckon  I'd  rayther  not  be  around  here.  You'll 
have  to  thin  out  your  stock,  or  you'll  bust  and  go  into  bank- 
ruptcy as  sure  as  you're  a  nation.  Well,  gentlemen,  my 
particular  hobby  is  the  migration  of  children.  In  my  coun- 
try we've  made  it  answer,  and  there  ain't  no  reason  in  life 
why  you,  with  all  your  colonies  scattered  around  the  world, 
shouldn't  make  it  answer  too.  You've  not  only  got  a  sur- 
plus on  hand — and  a  precious  greedy,  exacting  surplus  it  is 
— but  you've  another  surplus  growing  up,  and  you're  going 
on  breeding  another  surplus.  Well,  I  start  with  the  growing- 
up  surplus  and  thin  it  out.  Sir,  first  I'll  con-tract  to  take  all 
your  orphans  off  your  hands.  Then  I'll  rcdooce  your  large 
families.  You  give  me  a  cliild  or  two  out  of  a  family  of 
ten  to  thirteen  people,  and  let  me  take  them  away,  I  guess 


\ 


^^fKmfm^^^m. 


T 


mm 


YANKEE     INTERVENTION". 


i6i 


I'll  T-elieve  that  family  considerable  and  benefit  the  children 
into  the  bargain.  I'll  take  me  those  jooveniles  and  I'll  carry 
them  to  one  of  your  colonies,  say  Canady,  and  I'll  find  me 
here  a  couple  of  married  folks  that,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  ain't  had  the  usual  interest  on  their  wedding  paid 
down  by  the  Almighty,  and  they'll  take  and  keer  for  one  of 
those  children  jest  as  if  they'd  had  the  trouble  of  having  it 
themselves.  Now,  for  instance,  there's  that  blessed  little 
creetur  who's  raised  all  this  muss.  He's  about  the  capacity 
of  a  good-sized  straddle-bug.  I'll  take  that  child,  if  you'll 
give  him  to  me  a  few  years  from  now,  and  I'll  plant  him  in 
colonial  soil,  and  on  mush  and  hoe-cake  and  potato  diet 
he'll  swell  and  grow  into  something  like  a  human."  Jehoia- 
chin  concluded  thus  : — "  Sir,  I've  done  a  good  work  in 
America,  my  institoot  is  flourishing,  and  now,  for  the  love  of 
God  and  my  fellow-man,  I'm  willing  to  give  some  of  my 
days  to  trying  to  do  the  same  sort  of  work  for  Old  England, 
if  so  be  you'll  let  me." 

Loud  were  the  cheers  among  the  honest  country-folk  at 
this  promise  of  unarmed  intervention  on  the  part  of  Brother 
Jonathan.  It  was  moved  and  carried  by  acclamation  that 
he  should  be  a  member  of  the  Committee. 


U 


K 


w..^ 


l62 


LITTLE     HODGE 


CHAPTER    II. 


A  VERY  DRY  CHAPTER. 


The  way  that  Committee  went  to  work,  the  earnestness 
they  threw  into  it,  the  quantity  of  information  they  collected, 
the  amount  of  talking  and  writing  they  did,  was  wonderful. 
And  the  report  was  more  wonderful  still.  I  thought  at  one 
time  of  putting  it  into  an  appendix,  but  the  publisher  thinks 
an  appendix  to  a  Christmas  story  is,  like  a  tail  on  a  human 
being,  clearly  de  trop^  and  altogether  monstrous  and  un- 
usual ;  so  I  put  it  in  a  chapter  I  tself,  in  order  that  those 
who  prefer  facts  to  theories  may  pass  it  over  if  they  please. 

It  showed  that  the  farming  in  the  district  was  nothing  like 
what  it  miglit  be ;  that  the  supply  of  labor  was  about  one- 
third  greater  than  the  demand  could  fairly  support ;  that  the 
surplus  was  to  a  great  extent  represented  by  the  out-door 
relief;  that  the  wages  hitherto  paid  were  insufficient  to 
maintain  men  and  families  in  decency ;  that  the  result  of  all 
these  things  was  the  depreciated  quality  of  labor ;  that  the 
farmers  could  afford  to  pay  much  higher  wages  to  good 
laborers }  that  not  only  was  the  excess  in  supply  very  great, 
but  that,  considering  the  number  of  families  of  children 
"  coming  on,"  it  promised  to  be  greater  ;  it  reported  that  a 
certain  number  of  the  laborers  were  clearly  not  capable  of 
earning  a  good  day's  wages,  and  never  would  be  ;  that  there 
was  a  decided  absence  of  thrift  among  three-fourths  of  the 
laborers ;  that  some  of  them  ought  to  be  placed  permanently 
on  the  rates;  that  the  workhouse  test  should  be  rigidly  en- 


i 


A    VERY    DRY    CHAPTER, 


163 


. 


forced  on  all  paupers,  and  out-door  relief  be  gradually 
stopped,  in  hope  that  the  measures  about  to  be  taken  would 
reduce  to  a  very  small  number  those  who  weighed  upon  the 
rates.  ' 

As  to  relations  of  employers  and  laborers,  it  aftumed  that 
those  relations  ought  to  continue  to  carry  with  them  the  old- 
fashioned  kindliness  and  mutuality  which  had  been  claimed 
for  the  former  system,  but  based  on  better  grounds;  that 
the  notion  of  pure  dependence  on  the  master's  goodwill 
should  be  abandoned,  and  the  relation  should  rest  on  the 
more  practical,  rational,  as  well  as  more  just,  principle  of 
contract ;  that  perquisites,  beer,  taihngs,  gleanings  (which 
were  a  right  common  10  all  inhabitants,  and  one  every  year 
lessening  in  value),  should  form  no  part  of  the  system  of 
pay,  but  that  wages  should  be  estimated  at  their  fair  market 
value  in  money.  ?   ^^ 

As  to  laborers'  cottages,  the  report  was  on  the  whole 
rather  in  favor  of  leaving  these  in  the  hands  of  the  landlords, 
from  whom  they  were  to  be  rented ;  the  landlords  in  the 
district  were  recommended  to  agree  on  a  uniform  rent  for 
their  cottages,  proportioned  to  the  number  of  rooms,  and  a 
half  acre  of  land  was  to  go  with  them,  as  a  rule,  when  the 
tenant  desired  it.  On  the  cow  question  the  report  advised 
no  general  action,  buf  suggested  that  in  the  vicinity  of  com- 
mons, or  where  pasturage  could  be  hired,  association  among 
the  laborers  in  keeping  a  common  dairy,  and  distributing 
the  milk  among  themselves,  would  be  more  practical  than 
an  attempt  to  give  each  family  the  precarious  behefit  of  a 
cow  of  its  own.   The  report,  moreover,  suggested  that  by  joint 


il 


164 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


action  among  neighboring  landlords  it  might  be  possible  to 
meet  the  difficulties  of  housing  the  laborers  by  laying  out 
small  villages  of  houses,  with  allotments  near  them,  conveni- 
ent to  several  estates  :  this  however  must  be  a  matter  of 
pure  speculation  or  convenience. 

The  report  reviewed  the  proposals  for  co-operative  farm- 
ing and  industrial  partnerships.  It  spoke  highly  of  both,  and^ 
as  poor  Farmer  Truscott  was  going  through  the  Court,  and 
his  farm  was  vacant,  it  was  suggested  that  an  experiment  in 
co-operation  might  be  made  upon  it.  Industrial  partnerships 
were  also  recommended,  when  a  fair  agreement  as  to  the 
standard  of  the  labor-wage  should  be  first  arrived  at,  and  the 
work  be  done  on  the  condition  that  the  laborer  should  risk 
the  profit  on  his  labor  as  the  employer  did  on  his  capital. 

The  report  significantly  but  vaguely  said  that  the  present 
conditions  of  the  tenure  of  land  were  unsatisfactory. 

The  Committee  examined  the  subjects  of  the  distribution 
and  proportion  of  wages.  It  adverted  to  the  difficulty,  in 
dealing  with  a  great  number  of  laborers,  of  ascertaining  their 
proportionate  value.  Two  methods  of  meeting  this  were 
mooted :  one  the  adoption  of  a  system  of  contracts,  with 
gangs  of  laborers  under  some  recognized  leader,  leaving  the 
men  to  apportion  the  wages  among  themselves ;  the  other 
the  adoption  of  piece-work  wherever  practicable  :  the  latter 
was  strongly  recommended. 

Lastly,  as  to  the  excessive  supply  of  laborers,  present  and 
prospective,  the  Committee  advised  that  any  association  to 
be  formed  should  keep  itself  advised  of  the  state  of  the  dis- 
trict, and  should  form  a  society  for  migration  and  emigra- 


LITTLE     PILGRIMS. 


165 


tion ;  and  they  reported  very  favorably  on  Mr,  Jehoiachin 
Settle's  proposal  that  orphan  children  and  others  whose  pa- 
rents were  willing  should,  with  the  co-operation  of  an  insti- 
tute which  he  proposed  to  establish  in  Ottawa,  be  sent  out 
to  Canada  to  be  placed  out  among  farmers,  shopkeepers, 
and  others  who  would  take  them.  A  scheme  for  boarding 
out  in  the  same  way  at  home  was  also  approved. 

Such  was  the  report  made  as  the  first  result  of  an  attempt 
to  solve  the  difference  between  masters  and  men — a  report 
unquestionably  containing  crudities,  and  suggestions  that 
needed  to  be  tested  by  experience ;  but  which  had  this  ad- 
vantage, that  it  recognized  the  impossibility  of  finding  any 
single  specific,  and  rested  its  aims  on  a  number  of  possible 
means  of  relief,  and  on  a  general  combination  to  apply  them. 
In  this  light  the  mere  attempt  thus  to  formulate  remedies 
was  of  real  importance.  The  hardests  knots  in  many  a 
social  problem  often  are  to  be  found  less  in  the  circum- 
stcances  themselves  than  in  the  tone,  temper,  and  wishes  of 
those  who  profess  to  be  engaged  in  their  solution. 

0 

CHAPTER  III. 


LITTLE     PILGRIMS. 

Years  have  passed  since  that  grave  Christmas-tide.  Ten 
years  next  Christmas  will  it  be  since  John  Hodge  cut  the 
tangled  skein  of  his  own  sorrows  and  his  brethren's  difficul- 
ties together.  On  a  June  morning,  very  early,  there  is  un- 
usual excitement  at  the  Coddleton  railway-station.     There 


F" 


1 66 


LITTLE      HODGE. 


is  a  group  of  little  people  of  /arious  heights,  and  in  different 
stages  of  joy  or  sorrow,  who  are  the  objects  of  painful  ex- 
citement to  a  crowd  of  meo,  women,  and  children.  Mr. 
Leicester  stands  with  them,  and  now  and  then  speaks  a 
cheering  word  to  some  down-hearted  parent  or  friend. 
There  is  Mr.  LInkboy  in  his  mushroom  hat — not  the  one,  I 
hope,  of  years  agone — with  a  bag  strapped  round  his 
shoulders  as  if  for  a  journey.  He  has  grown  thinner,  and 
there  is  a  hectic  flush  upon  his  cheek.  High  above  them 
all  towers  the  form  of  that  quaint  but  ac-tive  citizen,  Jehoia- 
chin  Settle.  He  takes  out  his  watch,  as  he  puts  a  large 
piece  of  spruce  gum  between  his  teeth.  ,  v      -m 

"  Children  and  good  folks,"  he  says,  "  the  cars  are  tele- 
grammed,  and  you  haven't  over  two  minutes  to  con-elude 
your  hugging  and  crying.  Then  I  guess  we'll  get  away  for 
Canaan,  and  swop  tears  for  smiles.  Now  look  spry  with 
your  hydraulics,  for  I  guess  it's  your  last  chance." 

Now,  amidst  cheering,  and  weeping,  and  God-bless-you's, 
Jehoiachin  "fixes"  his  party  in  "the  cars,"  and  the  last  he 
lifts  in  is  a  little  fellow  of  diminutive  proportions,  who  hangs 
about  the  neck  of  a  comely  young  woman. 

"  Go-go  o-od -by,  Mary  ! "  sobs  the  little  man. 

"  Good"by,  Little  Ben  !  God  bless  ee,  my  dear  I  Doan't 
ee  forget  Meary,  wull  ee  ?  "     .     .     .     . 

"All  in  I  reckon?"  shouts  Mr.  Settle.  "Now  then, 
young   uns,   strike  up  'We're  bound   for  the  land  of  Ca- 


naan. 


»  n 


And  so,  amidst  cheers,  and  wavings  of  hands,  and  shak- 
ings 01  handkerchiefs,  while  Mr.  Leicester  stands  with  his 


ITf 


LITTLE    PILGRIMS. 


167 


e 

ir 


hat  off  bov/ing  a  dignified  but  hearty  adieu,  the  train  glides 
off,  while  Jehoiachin  Settle  and  his  convoy  sing  with  all 
their  might  • 

"0  Canaan,  bright  Canaan, 

We're  bound  for  the  land  of  Canaan ; 
O  Canaan  is  a  happy  land, 
-  .  We're  bound  for  the  land  of  Canaan." 

The  Curate,  as  secretary,  manager,  and  factotum  of  the 
local  Emigration  Society,  accompanies  this,  the  fourth  com- 
pany that  has  gone  from  Coddleton,  as  far  as  Liverpool. 
There  is  a  melancholy  gladness  in  his  face  as  he  talks  with 
Jehoiachin  Settle  about  the  future  of  these  little  ones.  The 
American,  looking  into  his  eyes,  knows  that  this  will  be  the 
last  company  to  be  set  rpon  its  journey  by  Mr.  Linkboy. 

Here  they  all  are  on  the  Mersey,  scrambling  out  of  the 
little  tender  into  one  of  the  great  Canadian  steamships  that 
is  swinging  in  the  tide,  each  one  receiving  a  kiss  and  a  bless- 
ing from  Mr.  Linkboy ;  and  then  Jehoiachin  looks  under  the 
mushroom  hat,  and,  unable  to  restrain  himself,  folds  the 
Curate  up  helplessly  for  a  moment  or  two  in  his  huge  arms. 
Squeezing  the  white  hand  in  hii  bony,  brown  paw,  he  says, 
with  glistening  eyes : 

"Brother !  On  the  other  side  of  Jordan,  brother  !  Good 
by." 

— The  lines  are  cast  off,  the  great  vessel  shivers  for  a 
moment  with  a  mighty  convulsion,  groans  i*^  her  inner 
depths  a  mighty  groan,  and,  with  a  sound  of  rushing  and 
splashing  water,  begins  to  glide  away  from  hci   t»ny  lom- 


i 


i68 


LITTLE     H0D(;E. 


panion.  On  the  i)addlc-box  below  stands  the  Curate ;  on 
the  foredcck  above,  striving  to  catch  a  last  glimpso  of  him, 
stand  the  children.  They  raise  a  shrill  cheer.  And  see, 
Jehoiachin  Settle  has  lifted  Little  Hodge  upon  his  lofty 
shoulders,  and  the  tiny  hand  is  viraving  a  handkerchief.  The 
smaller  steamer  rapidly  returns,  the  larger  gradually  grows 
indistinct  down  a  long  vista  of  sunlit  water,  but  tne  Curate 
is  dreaming  a  dream  of  a  hopeful  soul  borne  away  from  the 
terrors  of  its  early  days  and  the  despondency  of  itf  native 
life  to  a  land  of  hope  and  premise. 

As  he  stepped  from  the  boat,  and  passing  over  the  pier 
took  his  way  through  the  dingy  resorty  of  trade,  and  anon 
past  awful  shades,  where  vice  and  cru  le  and  wretchedneiiS 
cowered  from  the  lighi  of  day,  he  noted  them  not.  There 
seemed  to  me  to  be  a  light  about  him.  Methought  he 
walked  as  one  that  walketh  on  silver  clouds.  And  before 
his  eyes  a  hand  of  sonie  unseen  One  seemed  to  wave  a 
shining  scroll,  whereon  were  these  wo*ds :-— Forasmuch  as 

YE  HAVE  DONF  IT  UNTO  ONE  OF  THE  LEA.3T  OF  THESE  LITTLE 
ONES,  YE  HAVE  DONE  IT  UNTO  Me. 

* 


CHAPTER   IV. 


A  MIRRY  CHKISTMA5I. 


I 

![ 


Christmas  has  come.  Ten  years  to  day  since  Hodge'f 
dead  body  did  what  living  Hodge  could  never  have  done. 
The  rime  and  hoar  of  Time  arc  settling  down  upon  the  heads, 
tliough  not  upon  the  hearts — thank  God,  they  are  green  an  j 


mmm 


^ 


KilJJ 


HB»i 


H-~,  .-,.-«»-■ 


A    MERRY    CHRISTMAS. 


169 


flJ 


fresh  as  ever  1 — of  the  Parson  and  the  Squire.  Christmas- 
day  !  The  great  building  of  Coddleton  Union  gave  signs  of 
animation  and  festivity.  Here  were  squires*  carriages  and 
waggonettes  discharging  their  freights  of  brisk-looking  gen- 
tlemen, old  and  young ;  jovial  farmers  jumping  out  of  their 
traps  or  swinging  off  their  horses ;  and  a  crowd  of  men,  all 
neatly  dressed,  amongst  whom  the  gentlemen  mingled  famil- 
iarly, with  a  loud  and  oft-repeated  "  Merry  Christmas."       5 

By  and  by,  as  a  great  bell  rings  out,  they  all  press  in  at  the 
Union  door.  Aye  !  rub  your  eyes.  Master  !  Is  this  Cod- 
dleton Union  ?  They  are  turning  from  the  hall  into  the 
woman's  wing,  where  poor  Mary  Hodge  and  many  another 
like  her  had,  in  giving  birth  to  new  lives,  paid  the  penalty  of 
their  own.  But  all  that  used  to  be  here  m  her  day  is  changed 
and  gone.  The  room  where  Little  Hodge  was  born  does 
not  exist.  It  has  merged  in  a  great  hall — the  hall  of  the 
"  Coddleton  Agricultural  Society,"  of  which  sq  'iies,  farmers, 
and  laborers  are  indifferently  members.  The  poor  old  Poor- 
law  Union  has  fallen  upon  bad  days.  Five  or  six  years  ago 
they  were  obliged  to  reduce  its  accommodation  one-half; 
and  now  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Mee  rules  over  its  mutilated 
remains.  Many  who  used  to  live  upon  the  Union  are  now 
living  by  their  own  honest  labor,  and  some  of  them  are  here, 
waiting  with  tremendous  appetites  for  grace  to  be  said  over 
the  substantial  dinner  laid  down  in  the  Coddleton  Agriail- 
tural  Hall.  _^  -^ 

Sydney  Byrton,  Esquire,  is  standing  at  the  head  of  the 
centre  table,  and  on  his  right  is  Sir  Walter  Waggington, 
Bart.,  M.P.,  his  genial  nose  aglow  with  pleasure.     But  look 


it 


It 


I 


'*r 


170 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


there  !  They  have  been  waiting  for  the  chaplain  ;  and  now 
coming  up  the  hall  to  take  their  places  on  the  le'"t  of  the 
chairman  are  the  Vicar  of  Hankerley  and  the  Coddleton 
Methodist  minister,  Mr.  Roger,  arm-in-arm.  And  if  you 
look  round  the  room  you  will  see  other  parsons  ("^heir  curates, 
no  doubt,  engaged  in  praying  away  dutifully  at  afternoon 
service),  and  some  "  Primitives,"  and  a  Baptist,  and  a  Bible- 
Christian  or  two  ;  and  altogether  Peter's  sheet  seems  to  have 
been  emptied  into  the  great  room  at  Goddleton.  Who  would 
venture  to  describe  the  eating,  or  the  talking,  or  the  good- 
fellowship,  toned  down  by  the  spirit  of  tlie  day,  at  that  won- 
derful banc^uet  ?     Not  I,  I  warrant  you. 

When  dinner  is  over,  and  the  Reverend  Mr.  Roger  has  re- 
turned thanks,  devoutly  but  at  length,  "the  Report"  is 
called  for,  and  Sanuiiy  Stedoian  is  the  man  who  gets  up  to 
read  it.  It  is  too  rosy.  Were  he  net  a  te-^totaller  we  should 
say  he  had  written  it  amid  visions  of  bright-hued  wines  and 
generous  cheer.  He  reports  the  condition  of  the  district 
"  most  satisfactory."  Wages  are  good  ;  they  are  now  from 
fourteen  to  twenty  shillings  a  week,  according  to  ability, 
nearly  all  by  piece-work.  The  arbitrators  have  not  been  ap- 
pealed to  once  during  the  year  to  settle  a  dispute.  Sammy 
has  been  all  round  the  district,  and  is  happy  to  say  that  not 
a  single  LuKilord  in  possession  has  broken  the  compact  en- 
tered into  six  years  since  to  erect  a  certain  number  of  decent 
cottages  with  corresponding  allotments  ;  the  exceptions  are 
in  the  case  of  encumbered  and  charity  estates  ;  r  ''  r'^r  'Peo- 
ple arc  everywhere  improving  in  their  care,  jt  •/j-^M,  ti;^  :•  ' 
as  yet  the  general  result  is  not  all  Samn     :ould  i  av  A  '•  'X.. 


A     MERRY    CHRISTMAS, 


171 


1  ap- 
Umy 
It  not 

It  cn- 
;ccnt 


Is  are 


neo- 


'A. 


He  hopes  for  better  things  when  the  next  generation  is  edu- 
cated. Nearly  all  the  cottages  in  the  district  are  now  held 
of  landlords,  and  only  the  immediate  servants  of  each  farm, 
who  are  employed  by  the  year,  are  tenants  from  their  mas- 
ters. Tiie  building  society  has  been  very  successful,  and 
several  men  are  owners  of  ground  and  cottages.  Sammy 
says  "  the  good  effects  upon  the  men  is  very  marked."  The 
School  Board  is  working  "  most  successfully,"  and  now  has 
no  difficulty  in  getting  the  children  to  school.  Mr.  Leicester 
and  Mr.  Roger  are  complimented  for  their  efforts  in  this  de- 
partment. The  co-operative  farm  at  Charnley  has  this  year 
been  unusually  fortunate.     "  It  is  competing  with  some  of 

.  the  best  farms  in  the  neighborhood.     {Hear,  hear. )     They 
have  purchased  a  couple  of  machines,  and  have  been  able 

*■  this  year  to  hire  one  of  the  steam  ploughs  belonging  to  this 
Association."  Sammy  adds  slyly  that  "  there  is  reason  to 
believe  the  mode  of  cultivation  adopted  on  the  farm  is  being 
copied  with  advantage  on  other  farms  in  the  district."  More 
over  it  was  beginning  to  be  felt  that  the  two  hundred  mem- 
bers of  the  Co-opev.,i\e  larm  Association  formed  an  ad- 
mirable reserve  of  labor  for  the  farmers  of  the  neighborhood, 
who  found  they  could  get  some  of  the  best  hands  in  the 
country  to  work  overtime  after  they  had  taken  theii  shift  of 
work  on  the  farm.  •  The  report  concerning  the  co-operative 
stores  in  the  different  villages  was  enough  to  make  a  trades- 
man dance  with  anything  but  gratification,  so  I  forbv;;ar  lo 
repeat  it.  Lastly  :  "  Your  Ccminittee  have  as  u.sual  kept  a 
keen  eye  upon  the  requirements  of  the  district  in  the  sup- 
ply of  labor,  and  as  young  men  and  vfomen  have  come  on, 


I' 

(I 


,f 


172 


LITTLE    HODGE. 


efforts  are  made  to  keep  the  supply  proportioned  to  the  needs 
of  the  locality.  In  this  there  has  been  active  co-operation 
between  your  Society  and  the  Agricultural  Laborers'  Union. 
The  joint  Migration  and  Emigration  Committee  have  been 
promoting  the  removal  of  young  persons  to  other  parts  of 
England  and  to  the  Colonies,  and  it  has  been  found  that  by 
disseminating  through  the  districts  accurate  and  practical  in- 
formation about  the  Colonies,  several  families  have  been  in- 
duced to  save  money,  and  witli  a  little  assistance  from  your 
Committee,  to  emigrate.  The  Children's  Emigration  Com- 
mittee, under  the  personal  sup.-rvision  of  Mr.  Jehoiachin 
Settle — {great  cheering) — and  of  Mr.  Linkboy  ("  whose 
death  in  the  midst  of  his  usefulness,  soon  after  his  return 
from  seeing  off  the  last  company,  has  caused  the  deepest 
grief  and  is  an  irreparable  loss  to  our  Association  " — a  state- 
ment read  and  received  with  emotion),  has  this  year  sent  out 
twenty-two  orphans  and  others  with  the  assistance  of  the 
Guardians  of  the  Poor.  One  of  those  sent  out  was  the  young- 
est  child  of  John  Hodge.  "  The  kindred  societies  through- 
out England  arc  in  constant  correspondence  with  your  Com- 
mittee on  various  questions  of  common  concern,  and  steps 
are  being  taken  to  organize  a  more  thoroughly  National 
Union  of  tlie  agricultural  interests." 

This  abstract  sufficient!)  accounts  for  the  loud  and  pro- 
longed cheers  which  grcittd  Samtny  as  he  sat  ilown,  after 
saying  in  his  preachy  way  that  "  they  must  all  be  thankful  to 
A  kind  and  merciful  God  for  the  measure  of  prosperity 
vouchsafed  to  them  through  the  past  year,  and  pray  Him  to 


A    MERRY    CHRISTMAS 


173 


continue  to  them  the  spirit  of  goodwill  and  brotherly  help- 
fulness." 

Then  the  chairman  stands  up,  the  toast  of  ''The  Queen" 
having  been  drunk,  and  proposes,  "  Success  to  the  Coddle- 
ton  Agricultural  Society,"  the  only  other  toast  permitted, 
out  of  respect  for  the  day.     Drank  with  uproarious  honors. 

"  This  day  ten  years  ago,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  under- 
went a  painful  but  salutary  conversion.  It  was  followed  by 
that  of  some  of  my  friends  around  me.  It  was  a  conversion 
from  a  policy  of  pride,  prejudice,  passion,  and  cold-hearted 
selfishness  to  kindliness  and  humanity — to  a  sense  of  what 
my  friend  Stedman  has  called  *  brotherly  helpfulness.'  We 
may  or  may  not  believe  in  the  infallibility  of  the  laws  laid 
down  by  economical  philosophers,  but  we  must  admit  that 
even  their  operation  may  be  greatly  facilitated  and  improved 
by  the  intervention  of  that  element — by  the  sense  of  a  duty 
to  be  done  not  to  ourselves  only  but  to  all  about  us,  in 
every  relation  of  life.  Fxonomy  without  charity,  using  that 
word  in  its  widest  sense,  is  as  helpless  as  charity  without 
economy.  To-day  we  celebrate  the  results  of  our  change 
of  attitude.  Employers  and  laborers  were  in  fierce  antagon- 
ism, and  at  one  time  it  looked  as  if  the  batde  must  be  fought 
out  to  the  bitter  end.  But  when  we  were  made  alive  to  the 
dreadful  possibilities  of  such  a  struggle,  and  set  to  work  to 
ward  them  off,  earnestness  and  goodwill,  tempered  by  prac- 
tical sense,  brought  us  to  terms.  We  found  our  interests 
could  be  reconciled,  and  now  I  believe  that  they  are  one. 
It  will  please  you  to  know,  as  an  instance  of  the  general 
benefit  that  has  accrued  from  our  altered  relations,  that  th« 


ii 


i  I 


wi 


'. 


I 


r\ 


I 


174 


LITTLE     HODGE. 


Statistics  of  the  coming  year  are  expected  to  show  a  larger 
yield  per  acre  from  this  district  than  from  any  part  of 
England.  Another  significant  fact  I  ought  to  mention,  the 
effect  of  the  thrift  which  the  hope  of  better  things  has  en- 
couraged among  the  men.  The  farm  on  my  property  which 
became  vacant  at  Michaelmas  by  the  death  of  Mr.  Golding, 
has  been  taken  of  me  at  an  enhanced  rent  by  Richard  Roe, 
formerly  a  ploughman,  and  late  manager  of  the  co-operative 
farm." 

Sir  Walter  Waggington  supported  the  toast  in  a  character- 
istic speech,  in  the  course  of  which  he  said  :  "  Gentlemen, 
I  once  protested  against  the  introduction  of  commercial 
principles  into  die  relations  of  agricultural  labor  ;  but  I  have 
found  that  after  the  first  trial  was  over  these  have  not  only 
increased  the  value  of  my  property,  but  have  tended  more 
than  anything  else,  under  sensible  treatment,  to  bring  about 
that  community  of  good  feeling  and  advantage  which  I  was 
always  aiming  at,  but  knew  not  how  to  attain  on  behalf  of 
my  poorer  countrymen." 

Sammy  Stedman  then  claimed  the  attention  of  the  meet- 
ing for  a  few  moments  to  a  letter  he  had  received  the  day 
before  from  Canada.  It  was  written,  he  said,  by  the  little 
boy  he  had  mentioned,  the  son  of  poor  John  Hodge,  the 
first  and  last  martyr  of  the  agricultural  revolution. 

Dear  Sir, — 

TV//  Mr.  Link  Boy,  aftey  we  left  him  in 
the  big  ship  it  went  on  day  after  day  for  a  long  time.  I  was 
very  sick  and  throwed  up.     So  did  rveryhody  else.     IVlien 


A    MERRY    CHRISTMAS. 


175 


we  got  to.  Que- Bee  Mister  Settle  took  us  all  ashore^  and  we 
went  to  Montr eeal.  Then  we  came  here  to  Otta-JVa.  lam 
living  with  a  genleman  and  lady  as  came  and  got  Mister 
Settle  to  let  them  have  me.  They  are  very  good  to  me.  I 
call  them  papa  and  mama.  She  kisses  me  every  night  and 
morning.  I  get  ever  so  many  ttice  things  to  eat^  and  good 
clothes  to  wear.  I  am  grow  in  a  big  boy.  They  dident  like 
me  at  firsts  Uause  I  was  so  little.  Now  Pm  gr  m'in  they  like 
me  better.  - 

/  love  mama  very  much.  She  lias  changed  my  name.  J 
hope  it  does  not  matter.  They  call  me  Benjamin  Hope. 
Hope  is  their  name  too.  I  want  you  to  get  this  letter  before 
Chris  Mass  day^  when  all  the  genlemen  have  the  big  dinner. 
Please  tell  them  I  thank  them  so  much  for  sending  me  here. 
Tell  Mister  Lester  and  Mister  Link  Boy  I  pray  for  them 
every  night  and  morning.  Mama  likes  me  to^  and  says  I 
am  sure  by  and  by  to  see  them  in  heaven.  I  hope  so.  But  / 
want  you  to  get  this  letter^  so  as  to  stand  up  on  Chris  Mass 
day  and  tell  the  genlemen  from  me  I  am  so  happy,  and  I 
wish  them  all  K  Merrv  Chris  Mass  and  a  Happy  New 

YfAR  ^^^  Urge  rooiK!  h»Dd.  'I 

-  Yours  affectionately^ 

Little  Hodge. 
P.S,  Mama  says  its  the  last  time  lam  to  sign  that  name. 

Benjamin  Hope. 


II 


» 

J: 
'-I  1 1 


And  so,  Reader,  we  who  set  out  in  Sorrow  end  in  Hope. 
The  blessed  Christmas  birth  of  sadness  was  the  blessed 
Christinas  seed,  growth  and  fruition  of  joy  for  all  mankind. 


176 


LITTLE    HODGE 


The  story  of  Christmas  is  ever  the  same  story  of  life  out  of 
death,  of  light  out  of  darkness,  of  love  out  of  hate,  of  good 
out  of  evil,  of  hope  from  despair.  So  may  you  read  it  ever 
in  your  own  experience ;  and  let  the  precious  memories  and 
sweet,  sweet  fragrance  of  the  Christmas-time  embalm  your 
life  for  yourself  not  only,  but  also  and  always  for  your 
brother-man. 


i'      f 


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